


Digital Trip and Fall

by sydneykate



Category: Watch Dogs (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Aiden Pearce/oc - Freeform, Aiden Pearce/original character, Banter, CTos, CTos2, Chicago, Conspiracy, Defalt/ original character, Defalt/oc, Digital Trip, Do you even club, Drugs, Escape, F/M, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Love/Hate, Pearce, Post Game, Snark, Thriller, Vigilante, Violence, Watch Dogs, Where am I, X - Freeform, defalt, kidnap, lolz, non-con, tied-up, watchdogs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 06:54:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3280901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sydneykate/pseuds/sydneykate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is this?" I watched the feed change from one camera to another until all of them passed the front desk.</p><p>"It's trouble."</p><p>"Why is trouble here? I gave you back your phone." I whispered and crawled on the cold tiled floor between the bed and the wall. </p><p>"Do you recall initially when I told you to get out of the car and you decided against that?"</p><p>"Yeah..." I didn't like where this was going.</p><p>"And then do you remember later when I told you not to get out of the car and you decided against that?"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh god," I grabbed my head and tried to keep the room from spinning, "what am I supposed to do?" I peeked back at the screen showing the corridor down the hall.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm going to help get you out-"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trip to Chicago

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to treat this as realistically as possible; how would a person meet Aiden Pearce and tried to come up with a way that would keep them in the story line. Sarcasm, banter, car-chases, and lolz abound. Enjoy.

    My flight had been a long, seven hours of space invasion and over-salted pretzels. I hated heights; the very idea of flying, always had--years of breaking my younger brother's model airplanes were a testament to this. But finally, the plane touched down in Chicago and I survived all the elbows in my space and the sodium overdose. 

    The fasten seatbelt light went off and I half heartedly listened to the white noise of chatter while reflecting on the first layover in Philadelphia. It was three hours ago that I had experienced what only canned sardines can relate to--everyone trying to fit into the aisle and out the door all at once. Having this experience under my belt only seemed to drudge up dread for the entire second leg of the flight. All of those "breathing tricks" and "happy place" techniques couldn't deter my mind from remembering the battle of disembarkment. Anxiety had a fierce grip.

    I let out a breath I'd been unknowingly holding. "Made it." I had made it; in one piece, alive, and fairly well. Perhaps I'd get used to airplanes? ...no. I would not. 

    The P.A. beeped and the captain enthusiastically thanked us for flying with United Aeroway, though I doubted anyone listened. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the door, people were rustling bags and gathering their things. He had barely enough time to hang up the Mic and then the rush began - everyone wanted out. I wanted out too--the indents on the arms of my seat were proof enough, but I decided to be smarter this time. I patiently sat in my seat until the murmuring crowd had pushed and tripped themselves out of the awkwardly shaped doorway. Once clear, I got up casually and grabbed my carry-on from overhead and wheeled it down the narrow aisle. In a timely fashion: immediately, I turned on my cell phone and stared at the small screen powering up--ignoring the flight crews' cheery smiles as much as humanly possible.

    I passed through the tarmac and entered the airport, reality and a plethora of advertisements bombarded me. Giant CTos2  signs about family safety, the smell of coffee, some wkz news feed filled the spaces between inaudible conversations and overhead droning. Fluorescent lights washed out any colour variance and I found it hard to concentrate and stay on task under them. I was in Chicago, this was absolute, but this wasn't a vacation or a family reunion. Maybe you could stretch the truth and call it a family reunion, but it was far from a bbq social. 

     My brother had been sick for quite some time, I guess--I remember him always having a chest cold and a cough, but at some point he had found out it was something else and kept it to himself. The doctor's had thought it was chronic pneumonia and bronchitis when he was a teenager, but then years later it made itself out to be lung cancer--terminal. He was my little brother, and as children we were great friends--we shared everything. But not this. I hadn't spoke to him in four years. I never knew he was on borrowed time until two days ago, but only because he had died. The consensus of my family lingered somewhere between my having known all this time and my brother and I being on bad terms. I wanted to be spiteful and say I didn't care what they thought, but knowing I'd be in a room with all of them, in a strained silence, I found that I felt rather distraught over their lack if trust.

 

"Ma'am? Ma'am?" the voice was polite, but annoyance could be heard under it's shiny surface.

 

"Yes?" I looked up, broken from my train of thought. The owner of the voice was a petite blonde who looked like she belonged in the south pinned up on every 14-year-old's wall. 

 

"If you want to board, you'll have to wait in line." She squeaked with southern mannerism. Her eyes widened and she drew her eyes from me over to where I'd presume the line ended, if and when I'd look. So I waited a moment, to ensure that when I did look that it was my own idea and not hers--yep, the end of the line. Damn it.

 

"Sorry," I felt the red wash over me "I just got off a plane, I'm little...." 

 

"Hun, your in an airport." She sucked her teeth and it was then I'd realized she was being a bitch.

"Yeah, I'm aware," I took a step away from the angry line-goers and went up an escalator. 

    I'd deal with southern belle Barbie if it meant I could get on that plane and leave. I sighed at the thought; how desperately I wanted to get out of Chicago--the tourist in me was nowhere to be found. It was the constant worry I'd have to face everyone's glare when I got to the wake. Worse yet was that one of those glares would not be my brother's. He may have been younger, but he'd always been taller. I hid behind him whenever things looked like they'd be bad and he'd quietly assure me they'd be fine. He wasn't here to hide behind, and even if he had been, I wouldn't believe him if he told me everything was going to be alright.

 

    Being sure to pay close attention and pocketing my phone, I found my way over to the Hartz car rental line. Rentals were my last choice, but since my family and I were practically estranged, my pride couldn't risk asking for a ride and being turned down. I may have had pity taken upon me by my own mother, but I didn't want be to be trapped. I didn't want to be stuck at a wake full of grieving strangers trying to illicit some emotional response from me. I wanted to...even I didn't know what I wanted.

 

    "Ma'am? Ma'am?" a woman's voice called out. I snapped out of my pity party and paused in horror of this conversation ending up like the last one that began with "ma'am". 

 

     I was spared spiraling into exreme deja vu and ended up with an brown boring economy car--it was one of those Toyeti Celetics, "economy sports car" that looked like they may have almost been awesome if not for the fact you knew the reputation of Toyeti and nothing they made was truly sporty...and it was brown. 

     "Dump truck," I said to the car, "I'm going to call you Dump truck, and we are going to be great friends." There was that inevitable pang of loneliness as soon as I realized I'd been speaking to the car. "This-this is what it's come down to." My disdain for driving in cities with this car was going to be my only intelligent conversation and I damn well knew it. I put a hold on that thought--why was I convinced I wasn't going to incur the wrath of the entire Tristatt family, extended family, friends, neighbors, and strangers at this thing? Maybe things would be fine? Maybe I wouldn't have to talk to the car? Maybe? Then again, my step father had instant messaged me that he never liked me anyways...Maybe I'd just avoid talking to him. 

     I grasped the keys firmly in my hand and walked over to the car out in the garage.

     By the time I found my way out of the concrete parking garage, it was almost 3PM and the sun was on the decline. Even though I was in a car I could feel the cold autumn air filter in and start to work on chilling my bones. I found it odd as I'd imagined Chicago would be warmer than Boston. But the sun set at the same time and the air was just as unpleasant. 

     I stared back at the digital display- one and a half hours until showtime. How far was this Parker Square district, anyway? I flipped on the radio to the station it had already been on, woke up my phone and entered the address I was supposed to meet my mother and stepfather at. The radio chimed and a "special news update" followed. It was something about hacking--maybe some axe wielding maniac, and gang related stuff. Nothing that was too concerning to me. I wasn't here for the drama of the city, just here to do my thing and get out. I glanced back down at my phone as the map app kicked on--it claimed twenty minutes. Was relieved it wasn't going to be that long of a ride--the wake wasn't until 4:30PM. I shut off the radio, an ad taking the place of the news update about security was annoying and warranted silence. Silence would be a great start.

 

     About 6 minutes into the drive things seemed fine; no-one hit me and I didn't hit them. The district I was in was typical, agitating city stop-and-go traffic, but the architecture of the tall buildings and the "art" in the parks took mind off the constant braking. Someone beeped behind me and I noticed the light had turned green; maybe architecture was taking my mind off traffic a bit too much. I drove through the intersection and hit... another light. I glanced down at my phone, wondering if the app could account for traffic. It couldn't. In fact, the map app hadn't updated my position. WTF? I exited the map app and reopened it, hoping that something would refresh or reload--but nothing. I noticed my cell signal was non-existent. I had to either go straight or go left--and the only other thing I relied on my phone to do aside, from making calls, was not working. The light had turned green and I opted to take a left across a long bridge.

 

     I quickly got the sense I hadn't taken the right turn. Once I drove over the long bridge the houses became more leaning towards the condemned side of the spectrum. My brother wouldn't live here--he had standards. I glanced down at my phone, waiting for it to rescue me from uncertainty. No signal. I looked back up at the street and the neighborhood donned people sitting on their front porches, pedestrians in hoodies with pants practically down to their knees, and a lot of young girls out on every corner. Call it profiling, but I locked my doors and told myself I wouldn't be making any stops--not if I could help it. Though, as if on cue, the light that I was approaching changed--so much for not stopping.  

     I'm a law abiding citizen, so I stopped and I waited for the world to end or an explosion to go off--nothing of the sort happened. The light turned green and I reluctantly let go of the breath I'd been holding. I put my foot on the gas pedal, but before I could press it and the clutch down, all of the locks popped up in one hollow "thunk". I froze--maybe I accidently unlocked it with my elbow? Even I knew it was denial. I turned to look at the buttons on the side of the door and found a tall man in a brown coat looming by my window. I raced to hit the lock button but he pulled the door open before I could reach it.

 

"Out," was all he said. 

 

I stared blankly, not processing the situation, "What?"

 

"Out, now." He reached in and grabbed me by the arm and I grabbed my e-brake handle to keep me inside the car. 

 

Damn it Dump truck, apparently you weren't shitty enough to not get yourself stolen. "No." My eyes went wide; I didn't think that one through. He put something in my face and I stared passed it, trying to see him, until I realized what it was--a gun, "shit."

 

"Get the fuck out." His eyes narrowed and that's all I could tell of his expression as the rest was hidden behind some sort of ski-mask or-- He tightened his grip ands pulled my arm harder and pressed the barrel of the gun into my forehead. I wouldn't say I cried, but I definitely could feel tears starting to form over my vision.

 

"I'm not getting out, I'm not staying here." I cried out with conviction, which was odd because inside I was asking myself what the hell was wrong with me. What was wrong with me was that I a had wake I needed to get to, I was l Iost in the projects, my family hated me, I hated my car...no more.

 

The sound of something slamming and tires screeching echoed out in the distance and the would be car-jacker looked up and sighed angrily. He leaned in, letting go of my arm, and shoved me by my shoulder in one harsh motion so that I ended up on my back in the passenger seat. With the gun still in hand he got in, slammed the door and stomped on the gas.

 

     This wasn't quite what I had in mind when I refused to leave my car, I was more leaning towards him leaving me and my rental alone. He put the gun away and pulled out his phone. He looked up at the road for a second, glanced back down and then turned the wheel so hard that the back tires slid out and the car had turned sharply. Make no mistake, there were other cars on this road and he swirved around them as he regained his speed down the highway. I must have made a noise or it could have been the way I'd been holding onto my door because he glanced over quickly and said "seatbelt?" 

    This guy was going to get me killed. We were quickly approaching the city, again, and all the cars were beginning to blur together. A jerk of the wheel broke me from my thoughts. I broke my starting contest with traffic and he jerked the wheel again--his eyes were down on his phone and with a quick glance back on the road he jerked the wheel to correct the vehicle veering off. I altered my statement; his driving was going to get me killed--I began to think the shady neighborhood was perhaps the better choice.

 

"Still standing by your decision?" It was the second thing since he'd gotten in the car that sounded sarcastic.

    I opened my mouth to say something, it was clear he wasn't going to shoot me--he'd had done it already, and though I was terrified, I wasn't going to be his amusement. Before I got a word out, the car drove through 3 lanes of traffic and onto an off ramp. My head slammed into the window and my hand quickly rose up to put pressure on where it throbbed. I grabbed my head and put pressure on where it throbbed, "ah, fuck," l whimpered and pressed my body to the side of the door. 

 

    I looked up at him again--his eyes were glancing quickly between the phone and the road, faster than before. My eyes flickered down to his gun, halfway in his pants with the hilt exposed because his coat didn't fall back over it. He was still looking at the road, still driving fast, and still swerving through traffic. I bit my lip and inched my hand to the center console. 

    "Don't even think about it," he warned, his tone still unchanged. Shit, how did he know?

 

"Can I get out now?" feeling that my life was in more danger in the car, than out.

 

"It's a little late to change your mind," He looked up at the rearview mirror, his grip audibly tightened on the wheel, and then an explosion shook underneath the car and sent the back of it up before the tires met the pavement again and bounced. The metal frame of the car groaned for a moment and I turned around in my seat to see a car caught in a pressure burst of steam out if a crater in the road and slammed less gracefully than Dumptruck had.

 

"What the?" I was starting to get into hysterics now, but I watched the scene as we sped away and two black cars muscled their way around the pit and gained speed. The car-jacker must have seen the cars too, because our car picked up speed and he pulled me down into my seat. 

    "Holy shit! Is this a car chase? Did you steal my car and kidnap me because you're being chased?" I watched the cars gain in the right side mirror.

 

"Kidnap?" He was surprisingly calm despite the situation but he choked on the word, "I tried really hard not to "kidnap" you..." He pulled up the e-brake and the car did a hairpin turn before he pressed on the gas and the car was off again in a new direction.

 

    I must have been have upped my panic attack because he had rested his phone on his knee, reached over me, and pulled my seatbelt over and buckled it--straining to keep his eye line over the dashboard. l stared at him, waiting to hear if this was a car chase. 

 

    He grabbed his phone and looked over at me staring wide-eyed at him. "I'll try and get you out of this in one piece--sound good?"

 

    I didn't answer, it seemed rhetorical. I returned my eyes to the road ahead and it was then I noticed we were barreling towards an intersection-- our light was red. 

 

     "Hey?" I questioned, hoping he'd noticed. He ignored me, gripped his phone, and pressed harder on the gas; I could hear the engine strain to fulfill his demands. "The light." Maybe it wasn't obvious to him. He was clearly a distracted driver. My breathing picked up and I started pressing the invisible brake down on my side. The light hadn't changed and nor did our direction. We were about ten yards from the intersection when the lights went green. Cars casually rolled through the intersection but we miraculously managed to weave through. I looked back at the side mirror and the sound of metal impacting metal rang out. There was a 5-car pile-up.

 

 "So, if this car chase is done..."

 

     "Almost." He turned off the day-time running lights and we Made a quick turn between two tall brick buildings. The car idled for a moment and then the engine shut off.

 

    "What are we doing?" I looked down at his gun again. Were we in an alley because this was the end of the line for me? He put his phone on his knee again and slouched down in his seat. He didn't make eye contact or say anything but his breaths were heavy and slow. "Look, I just want to go." I put my hand on the door handle and he raced to grab my arm and pull it to the centre of the car.

 

    "Just wait. You'll be ok." He looked at the rear view mirror and my eyes drifted up that way as well. A black car crept on the street, hesitantly passing the alley way. Its brakes made a high pitched squeak as it slowed and turned to come down this way. 

 

   My heart thumped loudly in my ears. This guy was out if his mind to just wait here, and if he was running from these guys, how bad were they? I glanced down at his phone, still resting on his knees. My phone had gotten lost in the shuffle--probably somewhere on the floor. I'd need his to call for help. I couldn't exactly call the police-I'd be in Chicago longer than I had any desire to. I'd let thus go if I could walk away from it. 

 

     I looked at him still looking in the mirror and then I checked mine one more time; the car had stopped a few yards from ours. The car-jackers grip had loosened on my arm. It was now or never. I tested my right hand on the handle and in one smooth movement opened the door, pulled my hand from his grasp and grabbed his phone. I slid it between the car and the brick wall and ran to the front of the car. 

    The doors opened from the car behind my own and three men stepped out, guns clearly in hand, and hustled towards my car and me. "Fuck."

 

    "It's not him." One of the guys said.

 

    "Wrong car?" Another questioned.

 

    "Where the fuck is he?" This question was aimed at me.

 

    I was unsure what to do. I got the very distinct feeling I was going to be killed whether I answered or not. I quietly watched, frozen, as two of the men crept along side the driver's side of my car. 

 

    "I asked you a fucking question," he made his way towards me. It was all he got out before the driver's side door opened and the car-jacker stepped out and swung open a collapsible baton. He bashed the guys face in and charged forward to spin the other guy around. The car-jacker grabbed the other guy's forehead, tilted it back, dropped the baton, grabbed the gun tucked in his pants and shot him in the back of the head.

    I felt my knees buckle. I second-guessed my decision to take this guys phone. Luckily, the third guy from the car opened fire--never did I think I'd find that lucky, and the car-jacker ducked down out if sight. I took this opportunity to run, and I did, out of the other side of the alley and into a crowd of pedestrians


	2. Trip on the L

    Things felt surreal while I walked down the sidewalk embedded in a group of strangers. With so many things pulsating across my mind, it took the vibrations of the phone I'd taken to be the proverbial pinch. Snapping back to reality, I held the cell at waist height, looked at the display, and did a double take when my phone number lit up across the bottom of the screen. I slid the "answer" bar, "Hello?"

 

"You have something of mine." He was nonchalant.

 

"I know..." I was unsure if his tone meant everything was ok, but seeing as how he just killed someone, I was unsure if anything was ok, "I needed a phone, I couldn't find mine."

 

"I did. Would you like it?" I could hear in his voice that he was walking, something in the way he breathed.

 

I turned around quickly and scanned the crowd for, him--it was just a sea of strange faces. I stopped with my herd on the sidewalk and waited for the pedestrian light to turn, "Hello," he'd been quiet.

 

"Can't see me?" 

 

    I looked again and scanned the crowd, I even checked across the street to my right--but there was no-one quite as tall as I was sure he'd been, and no one was looking at me. "Where are you?" I didn't want to ask because didn't want to know, but I was pretty sure there'd be repercussions for taking the car-jacker's phone and I was thinking one if those repercussions would involve what happened to those guys from the alley. 

 

    I turned around in one last effort to spot him when I noticed a tall man donning a black hat--eyes locked on me and a phone, my phone likely, pressed to his ear and walking my way. I felt every hair on the back of neck stand up and my chest tightened as he slid between people, "Are you mad at me?"

 

"You didn't exactly follow anything I said, but I wouldn't say mad,"he paused his dry sarcasm and I looked ahead to notice the pedestrian light had turned and everyone was crossing, "stay put."

 

     Being rid of the phone would be a relief, it didn't seem like I'd have a moment to myself to call for help and I had a nagging suspicion that there was more to him wanting his phone beyond personal property. I took a step into the street and looked back to watch his pace quicken. I had witnessed him kill one, possibly two guys, steel my car, and brake every traffic law I could name--was he going to let me live? I doubted it. I had begun to think that the only bargaining chip I had was this phone, and it was proving to be a double edged sword.

 

   The sound of metal brakes screaming under friction caught my attention and I looked up at the suspended tracks overhead. It was the commuter rail. I couldn't remember what they'd called it, but I remembered hearing they were extensive--as in far away from here, extensive. I looked across the street to a rusty metal staircase that stretched up to the platform and then I looked back, he was three people away. I saw his eyes as he drew the realization of what I was about to do. 

 

     "Don't," was all he got out on the line before I took the phone from my ear and booked it across the street. 

 

      My heavy footsteps clanked against the metal stairs and I was sure I'd shoved quite a few people but felt unapologetic about it considering my circumstances and they'd serve as obstacles for him if he pursued me. When I made it to the first landing I looked down the stairs, against my better judgement, to see him trying to make his way up--staring me down. I raced up the second set of stairs to hear the first telephonic "ding" of the doors and nearly tripped into the train over the threshold. I regained my composure as the doors slid closed behind me as another "ding" chimed. I sighed and turned to face the door only to be startled by the car-jacker's face on the other side of the door glaring through the glass. He hit the door haphazardly with his fist, likely because I was protected by the simple fact that there were people everywhere. He put the phone to his ear, still not breaking eye contact, as the train started to crawl forward. Keeping my eyes on him I hesitantly listened through the now static line.

 

"Ok," it was calm and his face had been calm as the train strained to gain speed, "that wasn't quite what I meant by "stay there"."

 

"Uhhh..."was all I got out before I ran out of intelligible things to say.

 

"I'll be seeing you soon." I could hear his frustration. 

 

"I really hope not." I could hear the uneasiness in my own voice over the hum of the train and I'd wondered if he could too.

 

The phone made an odd noise and in taking it away from my ear, I'd realized he'd hung up. Dread started to flare up. I was unsure how he planned on finding me, but I knew that before that happened I needed to find help.

 

    I stayed on the train for almost an hour and a half and had gotten off a few stops short of completing the loop at Keele. I had time to assess what I had; the clothes on my back, my wallet safely tucked into the back pocket of my jeans, and a phone that only dragged on issues for the day, and realized the rest of my life was back in the trunk of my rental. I didn't dare go back to it in fear he'd drawn the same conclusion, so I pressed on and put my mind to finding my family. 

 

     It was almost six, the wake and funeral were over and they'd be heading to family dinner, if they weren't there already. Calling my mom was my first thought--she kept her phone on her at all times, but when I went to dial her number on the foreign phone, I'd realized my dependency on technology was quite crippling: I didn't know it off the top of my head. That had been my phone's job. I opted for plan b; find a cab and get to my family as fast as possible. I had no way of knowing where'd they be, but I knew the last place they were; the funeral home in Parker Square.

 

     A cab, though not cost effective, was efficient as far as time went. But the parking lot of the funeral home was empty and when I'd tried the front doors, they were locked. I parked my butt on the front steps and hoped one of my family members would show up once they'd realized I was missing.

     A bit of time had gone by and I opted to stare at the phone and wonder why this was worth chasing me down over. It didn't seem it, not to me. It wasn't important enough to keep my focus off my brother's funeral I'd missed. A rush of emotion threatened to pour over the rim of my eyes and I sought to distract myself, but I couldn't pull away from knowing I'd never have a goodbye. "May as well go home." This is what I'd come for and it was over. I wasn't going to lose any sleep not seeing any of my family, though I was sure seeing two people murdered, the car chase, and the car-jacking stalker were going to keep me up at night.

 

    Speaking of night, it was almost 8pm in October--it was dark. I half wanted to put on my jacket before I realized it was in my trunk...in an alley way. I sighed and began to walk down the street.

 

     No destination and curiosity possessed me to thumb through his menu. It was comforting that the blue light lit up my face and when I stopped to look around, I'd realized I looked like everyone else. Perhaps I could tell myself that everything was fine and normal. A lot of what the phone had to offer were odd apps I'd never heard of, some of them were things that seemed illegal. A "Digital Trips" folder caught my eye, so I strolled down the list until I found one labeled "supersecretlolz". It felt out of place for someone who seemed to take life so seriously. I couldn't imagine the car-jacker as a lolz kinda guy. "Pretty sure these things are illegal." I tapped the icon. 

 

     My vision blurred and the blue glow of the phone engulfed my face until everything was under blue light. It felt calming if not for the thudding in my ears being progressively deafening. I turned my head to realize there was a drag in what I perceived to be real-time...I had the wherewithal to know this wasn't real-time, but nothing moved in real-time here. A light appeared over the silhouette of someone walking by and I had crossed the road to get closer. A force pushed me hard into the ground and I fell. A car started to materialize near my face in the blue landscape, but as I'd gotten up, the monochrome palette swallowed back in and a white line caught my attention. I got up on the sidewalk and everything felt stable and real for a moment before I was bombarded with what felt like speed walking. The scenery rushed by me and I put my hands in front of my face to shield myself from the force. There were words above faces all on the way to something and it stretched into a single strand...and then it all instantly stopped.

 

The phone vibrated in my hand and I had to do a double take when I recognized my cell number on the display. Pain immediately followed the realization and I put my hand to my head to be shocked that blood clung to my fingers when I looked. I pulled my hood up as far over my face it'd go--it was the closest to denial I could get. I couldn't make sense of it, nor could I make sense why I was on the ground near a pawn shop. The phone vibrated again.

 

"Hello?"

 

"How's your night going?" The voice was disturbingly familiar and not my mother's. I frowned.

 

"I don't know how to answer that." I didn't. I found his calm demeanor to be unsettling. Where was he going with this?

 

"Why'd you run?" This felt like a different approach and I was hesitant to go down this road.

 

"You stole my car with me in it."

 

"Ok. You stole my phone and I tried not to steal you." 

 

"Yeah, but you still stole my car... And you killed a guy" I couldn't believe I was trying to give reason a shot, but why not?

 

"Three." 

 

"What?" I couldn't figure out what "three" had to do with anything.

 

"We can call this thing over. We can trade phones and go our seperate ways." He sounded convincing and I wanted it to be true, but...

 

"You killed people." It was likely clear I'd been emotional. 

 

"Yes, but they were all very bad people." He began to seem more human, I'd almost forgot he'd been dangerous and it made me wonder if this was his game. 

 

"I don't know." I took a step back and bumped into something. I whipped around only to find the car-jacker with his mask down to show he'd been sporting a grin. "How are you here?"

 

    He had put a hand on my shoulder and was quick to grab the phone out from my grasp. Once he inspected it, he looked down at me, hand still on my shoulder, holding me in place, "It's that easy." His grin faded away once he met my eyes. He reached a hand out to my face and I jerked my head out of his reach. "What happened to you?"

 

    I doubted highly that the phone obsessed murdering car-jacker cared about what happened to me, and I didn't exactly have an answer to offer. I ignored the question and put my hand out, waiting.

 

    He studied my face for few more seconds and then handed me my phone and shrugged, now avoiding eye contact. 

 

"We're done? You won't come after me?" He turned away when I asked and I saw the glow of his phone cast light against him.

 

    "Good night, Kate." 

 

     "Ok," I wasn't sure how he got my name, but I wouldn't had been surprise if it was somewhere in my rental on my stuff. "Goodnight, Aiden." As soon as I said the name, I froze and put a hand over my mouth. Was that even his name? What exactly possessed me to say that? 

 

I turned my head around to see he'd paused, turned around, and started my way. "What did you say?"

 

"Oh, God. I'm an idiot." I whimpered and looked around for someone to witness my homicide.

 

"No, that's not what you said." He'd quickly gotten closer, a whole lot closer. The front of his jacket brushed up against my knuckles and he towered over me. I took my hand off of my mouth and stepped back. He put his hands up to show he meant no harm, but I remembered the events earlier in the day and I didn't trust it.

 

"Where did you get that name?" His voice must had been light before, because now it was heavy. Now he was serious and want putting on the friendly act.

 

"The news?"

 

"Nope," his eyes were fixed on me, no lie was getting through.

 

 "I don't know. I heard one of those guys say it, I think." Was that true? Even I wasn't sure, but it was the only reasonable explanation.

 

"Hmm," he pulled my head back and grabbed my chin a lot softer than I thought he would, "you should get that looked at."

 

I assumed he meant my head, I'd almost forgotten about it. "It's fine." I'd tried to passively take my head back and pull my hood more forward, but he touched my forehead with his thumb. I took a clumsy step back and watched him closely--unsure where he was going with this.

 

"You do what you want," his attention began to divide between me and the phone until I became the tiny piece on the pie-chart of attention. He had put a hand in his pocket and made his way down the sidewalk and crossed over when he'd gotten further down.

 

____________________

 

     I had called my mom, at last, and managed to arrange a ride so I could get myself out of the middle of nowhere. When she had come, it was past ten and I was out of steam by that point. Her first maternal instinct was to chastise me for missing my brother's funeral. It was a short-lived jab, but it was enough to provoke the tears that had been trying to fall all night. She followed that up with an inquisition on the length of my stay.

 

"I'm going home tomorrow." I sat in the back of her suv and stared out the window at all the bright lights and the dark pits in-between. 

 

She sucked her teeth, "are you bleeding?" I met her eyes in the rearview mirror.

 

"I fell." I wasn't sure how to answer her typical hostility.

 

"In my car?" 'Oh, here we go' was all I could think. "You know, your father didn't even want to come with me because of you. You never think of anyone else." 

 

I was unsure if it was her odd way of expressing she'd missed me or if was the hit I'd taken to the head earlier, but the dull ache began to throb and take the forefront of my concentration, "Mom?"

 

"You know, this behavior has to stop. You're not a child anymore. You can't be so spiteful--" she ignored me.

 

"Mom!" My patience was non-existent. While her concern was me bleeding the upholstery, I was trying to come to terms with my day. 

 

"What? To much?"

 

"I need to go to the hospital." I put my hand to my head and and tilted it back. 

 

"Why call me at all? You could have dialed 911?" She continued her unique form of expression and changed course.

 

I had made it in one piece but found I preferred planes over driving with my mother. She'd become overbearing over the years and incapable of editing herself...on a plane the pressure in my ears had rendered me deaf--it was a blissful thought.

 

"Do you want me to come in?" She asked through the passenger-side window.

 

"No."

 

"I'm coming in. If you need to be at the hospital, it must be-" 

 

"No, it's fine." Fine was my universal word for the exact opposite, but this wasn't common knowledge. "I'll call you later."

 

"I'm going to be sleeping, call me when you get home," she rolled up the window and rolled it down again, "I love you."

 

"I know," I did my best impression of a smile and wondered into the emergency room.

 

I learned that the emergency room was a complicated version of first come, first served. It was that, but they had a scale of emergencies that warranted breaking this rule. Head wounds were up there apparently because I was admitted and getting a catscan within the same hour I'd showed up. 

 

"It's a concussion." The E.R. doctor confirmed, though he'd told me before I went in he'd been sure it was one. 

 

"Ok, so do I take medicine? I have a flight tomorrow and I'm tired." 

 

"Who's at home with you?" He asked, starting to look something up on a laptop. Laptop's were indeed the thing now, no more paper charts and messy handwriting, everything was electronic--it was that way in Boston, too. 

 

"Excuse me?" The question felt out of the blue.

 

"You have a concussion, someone has to monitor your sleep tonight.

" 

 

 Of course, why not?

 

 

"For real?" This was all seeming like the very opposite of what I'd wanted.

 

"No-one at home?" He left the laptop alone and attempted eye contact; It was a moment reminiscent of when Steve Irwin would narrator the strange behavior if a deadly animal inches from his face.

 

"Home's in Boston, and no, no-one to watch me."

 

"I can admit you for overnight monitoring, and you can pick this up in the morning with day-shift." He grabbed his computer and headed for the door, disengaging his attempt. Nice trick.

 

"Wait, is this necessary or is this one of those liability precautions? Not too thrilled with spending the night." I touched the fabric of the hospital gown and furrowed my eyebrows.

 

"I have a waiting room full of emergency patients who've been here all night-" he walked out and a nurse came in to set me up. She was chatty, but exhausted. She'd been there since 7am, and was supposed to have been home hours ago. I kept my negativity to myself and sat awake in the uncomfortable bed, watching the clock. Of all things to be restricted from...Why did leaving have to be one of them?

 

I was forbidden to fall asleep and every five minutes, or so it seemed, someone completely new popped in. My eyes were heavy and my body wanted to sleep though the pain. The doctor prescribed me Tylenol, but it couldn't touch it. I had felt my phone's vibrations at the edge of the mattress. I groggily stared at the unfamiliar number on my phone, "Hello?"

 

"Hey." It was him, the car-jacker. Adrenaline started to course through me and was instantly on edge.

 

"Oh my god. You?" I sat up quickly and felt my body demand I lay back down.

 

"Relax. Don't get loud," he breathed in deep and I tried to do the same, but couldn't, "look at your monitor." The only monitor I could think he referred to was the one being away as my heart picked up. I looked over to it and it wasn't the same black screen filled with meandering lines, it was about 5 people walking into the E.R. through the double sliding doors.

 

"What is this?" I watched the feed change from one camera to another until all of them passed the front desk.

 

"It's trouble."

 

"Why is trouble here? I gave you back your phone." I whispered and crawled on the cold tiled floor between the bed and the wall. 

 

"Do you recall initially when I told you to get out of the car and you decided against that?"

 

"Yeah..." I didn't like where this was going.

 

"And then do you remember later when I told you not to get out of the car and you decided against that?"

 

"Oh god," I grabbed my head and tried to keep the room from spinning, "what am I supposed to do?" I peeked back at the screen, it was showing the corridor down the hall. The picture changed and it was the two elevators I'd taken earlier to get to this room on the fifth floor. The doors opene opened to reveal an empty elevator.

 

"I'm going to help get you out-"

 

"You're here?" I fumbled around the room for my clothes and managed to drop them on the floor.

 

"No, not yet. I'll guide you passed these guys," he paused his sentence and had appeared on the monitor. I pulled my jeans up and started at the monitor as he leaned in so I could see his face, "just actually follow my directions and you'll be fine."

 

I had the feeling it would be easier said than done. "I can't do this right now."

 

"Ok, then how about you stay put. Maybe they're selling girl-scout cookies." He pulled away from his monitor and turned to do something out of my field of view.

 

"Wait," worried he was going to leave me in this predicament, "what do I do?" I worked my shirt on under the gown and pulled the gown off and tossed it on the bed.

 

The monitor turned off and I could hear a faint voice from my phone. I put it up to my ear, "We'll talk like this," he paused and I had been able to hear the distinctive sound of a car door close on his side, "wait by the door and get ready to go left down the hall."

 

I stood up against the wall and watched the hall through the crack in the door, waiting for the word to go.

 


	3. Trip to the morgue

A long period of silence had given me time to play scenarios through my mind. They all ended with me dead, or close to it. 

"Get ready to move," he broke the silence and the engine of a car revved on his side, "now."

I slowly swung the large door open and its creaking echoed in the hall. I had held my breath and froze.

"Are you kidding me?" What was he expecting?

"I can't contr-"

"Move it, your window is closing," he spoke over me, urgency evident. I slid out the door, crouching down and went left in the hall by an unattended nurse's station. 

"What now?" I whispered.

"Stay put." As he'd said it, the sound of footsteps pattering across the linoleum went by the opposite side of the station. I'd put my hands over my face to try and muffle my breathing, "It's just the nurse, relax."

"She'll be checking on me shortly," I retorted his "relax."

"I've got it," he huffed, "you need to go around the desk and stay left."

I crawled around the desk, stood up, and checked the right end of the hall; the nurse wasn't there. Three of the call-lights illuminated the dark corridor and then two more lit up right before I turned left. I tip-toed across the cold floor down the hall and stopped short of the corner. "Do I go?"

"Hold on," he interrupted as the elevator chimed and my ears pricked up, "you need to hide. Quick."

"What is it?" I backed down the hall and started turning doorknobs, but with no luck. "Everything's locked, what's going on?" It was then that I heard the chime again and the elevator's mechanical doors open, followed by several footsteps.

A door I rushed by clicked and I paused mid-stride and almost crashed onto my face, "Dry storage. Move it," he tried to even out his tone.

I opened the door and did my best to close it quietly. I put my back against the door and slid down. "Who the hell is that?"

"Fixers."

"Oh," like maintence or something, "I thought it was the 'trouble' ". I felt relieved.

"At what point do you consider yourself in trouble?" He sounded amused and I couldn't figure out why.

"I guess when someone's trying to kill me," I felt a bit more relieved his tone shifted.

"Consider yourself in trouble."

"What? Why?" Were they murderous janitors?

"Fixers, you haven't heard of them?" Amusement still clung to his words, he felt comfortable like this.

"Uh, they're not maintenance people, are they?"

"I guess you could say that..." he sounded ominous as someone on the otherside of the door tried the handle and moved on. "Fixers, they 'fix' things."

"Oh god," I listened through the door and tried to guess how many there were, "what am I supposed to do?"

"Get ready to open the door and run for the elevator." I heard the engine on his side shut off, the background void of the low rumble.

"I can't, they're right there."

"If you want to live through this, you will," I heard a car door shut on his side, "now go!"

I hesitated grabbing the knob, I could hear them not far from the door. This guy had no reason to help me. Maybe he was one of these guys--a fixer. Maybe he wanted me dead. I pushed it aside and pulled the door open.

My first mistake was that I paused in the middle if the hall when I saw three men with guns drawn turn to face me and aim. My second mistake was sliding on the floor with my hospital-issued socks and failing to regain traction for what felt like an eternity. My third mistake was that I got shot in the back and froze in shock. I could hear the car-jacker yell repeatedly over the phone "fucking move," and I tried to. Pain radiated through my body and the fixers came in. 

Adrenaline finally coursed through me and gave me a much-needed shove. I got up, unable to feel the pain for a moment and ran for the elevator. As I neared, the doors sprang open and I hit the wall to stop myself. I turned to face the fixers and as if they perfected synchronized assassinations, they drew at the same time and walked in the same pace. "Take cover," I could faintly hear. I hid behind the wall with the fire emergency panel and the doors casually dinged shut. The sound of gun fire rang out against the doors until the elevator descended one full level down. 

I touched the left side of my chest and pulled my hand away to see blood. I was unsure if it was from the bullet to the back or if I'd been shot more than once, but pain started to rush back and I heard a cry escape my mouth. 

"Hey," I could hear my phone. I picked it up, looking at the battery before I put it to my face, 2%. "Are you hit?" I cried harder. "Answer me, are you hit?"

I looked up at the camera over head, I could hear its mechanical workings turning it left and right quickly, "did you see?"

"You're directly under the camera, I can't see." he sounded somewhere between calm and maybe almost worried.

"I'm fine." There was that word again.

"Ok," he hesitated, "they'll be expecting you in the lobby, so I'm taking you to the basement."

If there was anything I hadn't been oblivious to, it was what was in the basement of hospitals--the morgue. Lots of dead people. I didn't want to go there. I felt like I'd be going there to die. "No!" I cried out into the phone as it played the "shutting down" tune. My phone had died. I cried harder and banged the elevator doors as it slipped from the lobby down towards the basement. 

The elevator stopped and the camera above had stop turning frequently. The doors dinged, opened, and then began to close. I reached my foot out I'm between the doors to keep the elevator there. I tried powering on my phone again, but it immediately shut off once it competed going through the start up screen.

I had wanted to get up, to start looking for a way out of this mess, but my body was stiff. I opted to crawl and even calling it a crawl was debatable. I spotted a large metal sink down the hall: it was tall and deep enough for me to hide under, all I had to do was make it over there. 

I'd made it over in record wounded time. The elevator was called up and I watched from the end of the hall as the light stopped on the first floor and then the elevator began its climb down. I had hoped that with the basement being key-access only it'd have taken them longer to figure out a way down. 

The doors open and two men stepped out. I watched add they looked at the ground and followed an imaginary l line right at me. It was drops and smears of blood, there'd been almost no point in hiding. One tapped the other on the shoulder and pointed me out, locking eyes. 

Surprisingly I'd felt calm. I had been so worried through this thing that knowing how it'd end felt relaxing. I enjoyed the predictability. That was until ask of the lights a wound down and the emergency lights struggled to kick on. 

I couldn't see anything-it was pitch black, but I felt a hand cover my mouth and I was ripped out from m y hiding place by my arm. I spilt over, trying to smack or hit whoever it was, but to no avail. I was pulled up but an arm and someone's arm we're under my own and around my back. The weight of my leaning and being supported by my arm caused me to cry out from stretching my back. The wounds didn't feel like spots that'd hurt--it was everywhere. Gun shots rang out and the pace picked up. I couldn't see where I was going--or who this was. Though, I was pretty sure they'd get sour too.

A hard metal sound rang our and I'd realized that my saviour had kicked a door open. My knees buckled at the sight of stairs, "Stand." I'd recognized the demanding voice.

"You?"

 

"Me." He started for the stairs and practically dragged me down them. A car, parked on the sidewalk, beeped and he opened the front door and rolled me in. The door slammed shut and for a moment everything was quiet until he'd gotten in on the driver's side. The car came to life with a turn of the key and I watched the heads of streetlights pass by from down on the seat. The car jerked and my head smacked the door, "How do you have a license?"

He ignored my question, "So, what part of bleeding all over the floor means you're not hit?"

"Huh?" My mind started to slip as the warm glow of the streetlights faded and the night dotted the sky.

"Hey, stay awake."

"I am. I can't sleep, it hurts." No sooner did I say it, did I realize I recognize I was doing just that.

"Hey?" He called, and I listened while i watched things up ahead. He'd pushed into my back and the sharpness of the pain shot through me--I was instantly nauseous. 

I began to heave. "Fuck."

"Stay awake." He turned the car and out it in park and got out. My door opened shortly after followed my being dragged out on my back, "I'm not carrying you, get up." It was the last bit of frustration I'd heard before I slipped off and closed my eyes.


	4. Fall in the bathroom, Trip to the airport

   I didn't need a clock or nearby window to know I'd woken up somewhere between two or three in the morning. My mind readily woke itself, but my body was hesitant to follow and it had tried to persuade the whole of me to sleep again. Then I'd remembered the elevator ride down to the morgue. My eyes had shot open and I raced to sit up, but the motion came with pain--more than what had felt warranted. I collapsed back down and regained a semblance of composure.

     I waited for my eyes to adjust to the dark and for the waves of pain to release their hold. The first thing I saw were the frayed ends of a blanket resting over half of my face. The longer I stared passed them, the further I could see--I'd realized a few inches from my face, on an end table, was a box of pizza with grease wicked up its sides. I was pretty sure it was responsible for the stale smell threatening to turn my stomach. I groaned and flopped the blanket off my face and turned my head.

     There were the makings of a window with the curtains closed and beneath it a couch, only a few feet away. It was too dark to see what else was over there. I turned my head back towards the pizza box again and noted a table with several computer monitors generating lines to small to read. Their faint glow touched the edges of every surface and I could then see I was on a bed. I looked at the end of the bed, noticing a secondary light source--another monitor and what looked like stacked towers, "Wow, someone's been hitting World of Warcraft hard."

     A muffled groan could be heard from my left, in the vicinity of the couch--perhaps my kind host was around? I mentally shushed myself and decided another round of escape was in-order; the last time I checked, the car-jacker wasn't only trouble himself, but had some in tow. I didn't need that. I needed to get home--to the safety of my 9 to 5 job and rental payments. 

      I held my breath, anticipating the pain, and began my awkward assent into the sitting-up position. It was a fairly quick process, unlike getting up on my feet-- though once I'd gotten to the point of standing, I inwardly agreed sitting wasn't an option. 

    Murphy's law came into play as soon as I took my first step. The floor creaked and instantly I recalled the door from the hospital. I paused, rather comically I was sure, but as the events from the hospital became less of a haze, it lost its humor. I couldn't see anyone and noone made themselves known, but my eyes kept darting back to the darkened couch. The dim glow of electronics brushed a reflection on a door knob and I crepted my way across the room with an arm extended out. On my short journey I passed the table in the middle of the room and a small kitchenette to my left that held stacks of pizza boxes. I'd drawn a conclusion that whoever lived here was likely going to be alone--for life. It was a mix between a nerdy teenager and bachelor's cave and I could tell this with the lights off. 

     My hand finally touched the metal knob and on a very quiet count to three I opened it quickly, went through and slammed it shut. I rushed forward only to trip on something almost knee high and fell in the dark. The ground was slimy and wet. I knew this feeling... smell... it was a shower. I sucked in a breath in disgust, though expanding my lungs only served as a reminder there'd been an extra hole my chest.

 

    A knock on the door followed the lights flickering on. I was in an awful green-tiled bathroom, on the floor of a sludgey, brown bottomed tub. Wrong door.

 

"Hey, everything ok in there?" It was the car-jacker; despite the sleepiness in his voice, I could tell.

 

I stared at the closed door, wide eyed, unsure how to respond, "It's fine!"

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"Using the bathroom?" I tried to sound offended, maybe he'd leave me alone.

 

"Do you normally make this much noise?"

 

His question inspired a looked if disgust--did he just ask that? "I fell." Maybe honesty would get him away.

 

"Do you need help?" I heard the knob move. He wasn't going to open it, not yet, but his hand must have rested on it.

 

"No!"

 

"Are you trying to climb out the window?" He was casual about it.

 

"No!" But that wasn't a bad idea. I pulled myself up, winced and then squinted my eyes as I rose onto my feet. I rested my palms on the underside of the window by the toilet and pushed it up. I was grateful there was no screen, but it was the second floor--that was a problem.

 

"Did you just open the window after telling me you weren't escaping from it?" He feigned his feelings hurt. It was insulting. 

 

     Maybe the fall wouldn't kill me--but could I continue my evasion with two broken legs? "JustI go away. I'm in the bathroom!"

 

     The door popped open and he strode in and folded his arms at the sight of me scrambling to close the window. I put an arm out, "Look, I don't want any trouble-"

 

     He smirked and fiddled with the thumb-holes on his sweater, "Oh? You ignored every direction. You went through my phone. Where is the part that you don't want trouble?" His face was placid, but his voice said it all: he was pissed. 

 

     I pressed my back into the wall and now had both hands out, trying to keep him away as, "What do you mean 'went through your phone'?" I thought about what he could possibly be referring to, "You mean super secret lolz?" That stupid thing?

 

     "That would be the one." He put a hand out onto my shoulder and his grip tightened, "It's corrupted, it's one use, and you used it." He started to move me forward.

 

     "Look," I unsuccessfully tried to shrug out of his grasp, "I'll get you a new one. Those things are just as common as pot--I can find-"

 

     "Not this one. This is what your friends from the Loop were after."

 

     "Loop?"

 

     "The alley where you left your car." He'd guided me out of the bathroom, turned off the light and let me go into the room.

 

    I thought about arguing his claim that I'd left my car, but the idea that of all the things I looked at on his phone--it was the one he was going to be killed over, overwhelmed my train of thought. "Why would you have it there casually with all your apps?" It was a good question.

 

     He sighed, "I couldn't break the encryption from my phone, so I waited for it to be done at the transfer. The file is, was, a digital trip, so that's where it's stored."

 

     "Seems kinda careless." I say on the edge of the bed, my eyes once again adjusting to the dark. Though as soon as I said those words, I remembered I was talking to a killer, not a friend out even an acquaintance. He had this way of speaking familiarly. It was a good technique. I'd have to try it sometime.

 

     "I don't often part with my phone. You could have done some serious damage with it," He plopped down beside me, "if you haven't already."

 

    "There was nothing worth a car chase on it," I stared at the three monitors, "it's just blue, everything."

 

    "I don't think so."

 

    "I'm serious. Everything was blue and slow and I ended up someplace weird, but there's nothing worth-" I pointed to the epicenter of hurt in my chest, "what's it supposed to be?"

 

     "Hmm," he laid back, "all the dirt that Defalt had on DedSec, it's affiliates, pet projects."

 

     "Uh?"

 

     "DedSec is a group of hacktivists, Defalt, JB Marcowicz, was turned down by DedSec, too flashy."

 

     "So, revenge?" I went to lay back but found passed a certain point I wouldn't be able to control the descent.

 

    "More like blackmail. Except he's dead."

 

     "So, why do you want it?" 

 

     He sat up, "Have you considered that asking all of these questions will only get you into more trouble?" He stood up and went to the table with the monitors and flopped a switch. A light hit the wall and a collage of paranoia appeared.

 

    I struggled to stand up for a few moments and then walked over near the table. There were pictures, words, articles. A young woman's face appeared a few times, but over one picture it read "dead". "What is all of this?"

 

     "Questions," he walked up to the wall the projector shone upon "and leads." 

 

     It was a picture in the right that caught my eye. I knew him. Like deja vu or something. "Jordi?" It was an Asian man in a white suit. I could hear his voice in my memory, but nothing distinct was being said.

 

     He turned to face me, an amused look of disbelief, "You know him?" He pointed to the picture.

 

    "Yeah," even I was shocked. The more looked at him and the more I could focus on the sound of his sarcasm, the more I could remember.

 

     "Where did you meet?" It sounded like a challenge.

 

     "I don't think we have," it was confusing to say the least. He shut off the projector and flipped on the lights. My eyes stung, "I don't know--"

 

     "I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but it's over." He walked to a door on the other side of a built-in partition and opened it. The sound of conversations filtered through and I knew it was outside. 

 

   "I can go?" I took a step to the door and hesitated. This was the first time I'd seen the car-jacker in the light. No hat. No scarf. He had a bit of scruff growing where a beard would soon follow if he let it go too long, and his eyes were a darker blue--they were angry. 

 

    "Yeah. What did you think?"

 

    "You were going to kill me." I was at the door at this point, walking out of it backwards, still looking at him. I had that odd sense of familiarity with him, then again we'd seen a lot of each other. But it was more than that. I held onto looking at him for a few moments longer and I recalled him and Nicky hugging each other goodbye and Jackson. No, Jacks. They called him Jacks. They left Chicago and went--

 

     I must have stared too long or made a face because his expression changed dramatically and I couldn't tell what it meant, "I might if you keep staring like that." He broke into a small grin.

 

    "Right," I slowly nodded, "I'm going to go now." I pointed out the door.

 

    The door closed quietly behind me and I smiled at my new-found freedom. I walked down some metal stairs and wandered away from the brick motel and its sign "newly renovated." I felt relaxed, even. Now I knew he wasn't coming for me--he let me leave. I touched my back pocket and felt my wallet still there. "Good, now I can get out of here, for real."

 

     I managed to flag down a taxi and get myself to the airport. I'd only been about a half hour away, even with the steady stream of traffic. The driver was a man of few words--I was thinking English wasn't his first language and he'd somehow knew it was my only one. We communicated with awkwardly big smiles; to show we were being honorable, and nods; to say yes.

 

     I went in through the rotating door and made my way up an escalator and to the front desk. I passed a series of big screens all displaying a part of a bigger picture and eyed the United Aeroway kiosk across the way. Home was so close--'just a few more hours' I kept telling myself.

     I stepped up to the kiosk and waited for someone to appear, it was likely they were out back this time of night... morning...whenever. My jaw dropped when of all the people to come strolling out from behind the swinging door, it was Southern Belle Barbie.

     First she smiled, and then she made the "recognition" face. It mirrored the face I'd imagined I'd made when I had felt she was a bitch--it must have left an impression. "Oh you," she paused and then recovered, "dear."

 

     "Uh, yeah... me." I offered her my best fake smile without reservation. I was likely never going to see her again, why care now?

 

    "What flight are you looking to board?" She resorted to being professional and it made me frown a bit. 

 

    "Boston, as soon as possible."

 

    "There's a 7:15 A.M. , non-stop, or a 6:30 A.M., but with two lay-overs."

 

     "What's the price difference?" I rested my elbows on the counter top.

 

     "They're the same." Her accent was heavy on the "s". 

 

     "So, obviously the one without the lay-overs." Was it true what they'd said about blondes?

 

    "Well my momma always told me to never assume," oh god, "like you'd think if there was a line, you'd go to end, not the beginning..." she was still being a bitch.

 

     "The non lay-over." Anger laced on every syllable.

 

     "What a great choice." She took my card and license, printed my ticket, handed them to me and then, "Do you have any bags you wanna check in?"

 

    I looked at the empty space on both sides of me, "nope."

 

    "Travel light, dontcha?"

 

    "Somehow I feel like I'm taking more baggage back than I'd brought," and with that, I'd left her puzzled and went through the check-point.

 

     I'd sat at the quiet airport for about two hours when the panels on the walls collectively flashed a WKZ report about a murder in "the Loop." My head shot up as that had been a familiar phrase. 

 

    " This morning WKZ news is the first to bring you the startling report on a shooting in the Loop that took place almost two days ago. "

 

     I froze when I saw DumpTruck wedged in an alley with holes in him. 

 

   

     "Police are reporting the crime happened somewhere in the early hours of Saturday, but the investigation has been kept from the public as the crime occurred out of CTos' view "

 

     I stood abruptly when I saw video of me leaving the alley, merging in with the crowd, and then looking backwards. Hell, even I thought I had looked guilty.

 

     " Police have identified the shooter as 28 year old SydneyKate Tristatt originally from Boston. She's been on the run but is believed to be hiding in Chicago..."

 

     I looked away from the screens, passed the other side of the check-point to see Southern Belle Barbie on the other side, frantically pointing me out to two officers she was talking to. I looked up at the screens, one in the corner changed to "you better run." I stood, was it talking about me? Then one by one, each screen blacked out and read "run!"

 

      I searched around for a way out and looked back at the police officers passing through the check point, clearly staring me down. I took a few steps away and continued searching until a queue-board turned from its bright blue to black "go left, gate 25." 

 

     I looked back at the police officer, cautiously gaining ground, "Hold it right there." He'd put an arm out, as if he'd use the force to hold me in place. I booked it, running left and skimming the signs for gate 25. Every time my foot smacked against the tiles it would send pressure up my back, pressing into my wounds, and clanking my teeth together because I was breathing out of my mouth. When I'd spotted it,

; gate 25, I ran past the desk, down the tarmac and paused at the gaping opening. It was about an 8 foot drop, maybe more. I was a poor judge of distance. I could hear the echo of my pursuers' feet slaming against the tarmac floor. 

 

I jumped.

 


	5. Fall out of place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think I'm going to go over and revamp chapters before I make more chapters. The end of this one was not thought through. I mean, fan girl squee moments abound, but could be tighter.

It was quite far... from a graceful landing. Initially I landed feet first and a sharp sensation traveled up my shins right before I spilt over onto my hands. I'd considered crying about it, when I looked at my scraped palms and watch the blood push out from under the embedded debri, but I had to focus on how I'd outrun the police. It was already a hard task because of the wound in my back and chest, and though it looked like it had been patched--no bandage was going to protect it from the impact of running.  
I never imagined myself as a criminal on the run. I'd always said I'd wanted to be a veterinarian or a zoologist in middle school. I imagined a little car-jacker in middle school bringing a gun to show and tell--the criminal thing was his gig, not mine.   
I'd been straight-laced and sure of myself my whole life, but I was now almost positive that running from the cops was a crime, and thusly made me a criminal. This was a mistake. A misunderstanding. Maybe I could explain that the T.V.'s told me to do it?

"She's on the ground!" A man called, up from the tarmac. It startled me and I took some steps back under the mouth of the tarmac to avoid detection.   
I felt they'd maybe not understand the "T.V.s talking to me" approach, so I ran, again. As I went by another tarmac, I'd realized why gate 25 was specifically chosen--it must had been for smaller planes. The planes that were docked and even the unoccupied tarmacs were considerably higher. Had it been blind luck?  
"It's to early in the morning for this," I whined to myself.  
A commercial for Quickies Coffee deafeningly blared over the P.A. and I jumped out of my skin before sprinting forward from being startled.  
I ran passed a fire door that popped open and had begun to swing outward. I paused mid-stride and turned toward it. No, not blind luck; I recalled the door unlocking itself in the hospital. Was it the car-jacker? What had I called him before? Aiden? Was it him with the T.V.'s? This was his mess.  
Sirens blared out in the distance and steered me out of memory lane. Were they coming for me? All of this commotion? I didn't kill anyone.   
"Fucking Aiden." I said under my breath as I entered the doorway and glared at a camera. I'd been sure that's how he knew what door to open. I wasn't sure how he did it, any of it. Perhaps it'd be best to not know.  
I closed the heavy door and put my back against it. This was feeling all sorts of familiar.   
"What now?" I asked to the camera. I walked out in the hall, still hearing sirens populate the air, and covered my ears to delay anxiety. I looked around until the lights had audibly wound down. "Can't see."  
A ceiling light lit up down the hall and I stared at it in the dark, waiting for it to reveal something. Maybe the police would round the corner? Perhaps the car-jacker, Aiden, maybe he'd stroll in. But no one came. The light began to flash faster and faster. I just watched, puzzled, until it shut off completely. "Uh. Back to I can't see."

The light came on directly overhead and I shielded my face as I looked up. The next light lit up and the light over head shut off. I stepped under the light and then it shut off, though again the next one lit. "Oh." He wanted me to follow them. I felt stupid.  
The light overhead died and this time the light all the way at the end of the hall lit up. I sighed, even the lights were impatient.  
The charade continued until I came upon another fire door. It popped open and on the other side was the airport parking lot. In the middle of the lot was the train, boldly labeled "the L." Without needing a hint, I headed towards the trains, neglecting to consider the police cars only few yards away.   
"Stop right there!" The voice was firm. Maybe if I stopped running now I could stop wracking up charges.  
I put my hands over my head and turned to face the officer. Officers. He had quite a few with him, guns drawn. Some had tasers out. "I surrender."  
The cop that had ordered me to stop holstered his gun and walked towards me, working the cuffs of his belt. My heart had crawled in my throat and pounded loudly in my ears. I couldn't believe I was in trouble. I shouldn't had run. He grabbed my arm and slapped a cuff on it. "Ow," I complained. He grabbed my other wrist and pulled it, then yelled and almost dropped down.  
I turned to face him and the rest of them, but they all followed suit; grabbing at their ears and doubling over. I cocked an eye brow and yelled over them, "Do I just do this last cuff myself?"  
The ground began to shake and I looked back as a train approached. The timing was amazing. Perfect. "No!" I scolded myself. I wasn't running to the train.  
"You fucking bitch," an officer cried out, getting onto his feet only to yell again and go back down.  
"Hey, this isn't me." It seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. "Fuck." I turned and ran for the train and watched my breath race from my mouth into the cold air in-time with every stride. I held a hand out, anticipating grabbing the railing on the platform and did so. I swung myself around the turn, ran around the gate and into a couple that had been trying to disembark. They gave me an annoyed look but left before "sorry" could come out.   
I stood by the open door and watched as the police caught up and stepped onto the platform. "Shit." I put my hands up and looked at the cuffs dangling from my left hand. I sighed. I was pretty sure I'd be going to jail at this point.   
Three of them approached the door, guns drawn, "Don't fucking move." Another cop mumbled into a radio velcroed to his shoulder, eyes never leaving me, "We got her, south bound train. Have them shut it down."   
And then the door snapped shut. The officers looked confused, I'm sure I had too. The train rumbled, and shook, as if conflicted, and took off rather suddenly. The sudden motion from a dead stop sent me sideways and off-balance. I squinted my eyes, bracing for the ground--but I didn't fall. Instead, a pair of hands grabbed my shoulders and someone stepped into my space to steady me. I turned red. I couldn't see it, but I felt th heat creep up into my face. I turned to say sorry, and whoever it was let go.   
"Sorry," I put a hand on the back of my head, "uh, thank you."  
It was a guy, probably around my age, in a black zip-up hoodie and standard jeans and shoes. "Getting into trouble?" He sounded amused.   
It caught me off-guard, "I think so. Yeah... shit." I plopped down on a seat, and leaned my head against a pole.   
"You're going to be alright." He placed a hand on my head and knelt down. "You're pretty cute, you know that?" He got up before I could react and made his way to the other side of the cart. Heat continued to rush up into my face. I looked over at him, his back against a pole, still looking in my direction. He gave a small wave and I averted my eyes to the ground. I wasn't prepared for this.

The train came to a screetching halt--not at a station, and the automated attendant announced the train was having difficulty. The doors opened and dinged and I hopped out. What to do? I casually walked across the tracks towards a green space with a fountain in its center and turned to watched the train take off. Where was the wisdom of taking me here? I parked myself on the closest bench and waited for the next move to make itself apparent.

It came in the form of a hand under my arm pulling me up. I turned quick, half expecting the cops, but jumping up when I realized it was the car-jacker. "How did you-" I was cut off by the harshness in which he pulled me off the bench and into him. "Hey!"  
"Be quiet and walk." He kept his hands on my shoulders and drew me further into him until my back was touching his chest.  
"Wait," I tried to turn but he rushed me forward, "just stop!" I turned into him, meaning to be obstinate, but it came off intimate. My face turned red. I could feel the heat. He cocked an eyebrow. He saw it. It was obvious he saw it.  
"You're going to be found out if you keep talking and don't move."

"The train stopped here, not at the station, they won't look-" he put a hand over my mouth and opted for towing me backwards by my face.  
"CTos can hear you. It'll recognize your voice, you're face."  
I tried mumbling something unpleasant but it was terribly muffled under his hand. I went along with him across the park and to a black car parked on the side of the road. He opened to door and I got in after receiving the look of "if you try to run I will shoot you" and waited quietly. 

I escaped the police! It's this idiot's fault they are after me, but I don't that badly. I looked over with pride on my expression, but it died when I met his eyes and he was less then thrilled.

He grabbed the neck of my shirt and shoved me back into the door, "who the fuck are you and who are you working or?"  
I out my hands up, shocked, "what?"

"Don't fuck with me!"

"Whoa, I'm not!" Maybe getting in the car was a bad idea.

"You have CTos access! Who are you working for?" He slammed his other hand into the dash and I jumped, "who hired you?"

"Hired me?"

"You accessed a file on my phone," he put a thumb over the wound on my chest, "the club? Viceroys? DedSec?"

As soon as he said DedSec I recalled a photo on his little light-up-collage. The woman who's photo said "dead". She was lying in a puddle on the grass and the car-jacker was walking away. I put a hand on my head, not wanting to remember anymore, "No!"

He pressed a thumb into the track of where the bullet had exited and I screamed, writhing uncontrollably. "No isn't acceptable," he let go, "I thought you were just determined clueless idiot. Obviously not."

"You took my car," I put pressure on the wound to try and ease the pain, "I didn't seek you out."

He paused and leaned back against his door and folded his hands over his chest, "how did you gain access to CTos?" He asked it in an overly nice way. He switched modes.

"I didn't." I may not have been exactly sure what he'd been referring to about having access, but I knew CTos: couldn't escape the commercials back at home, "I don't understand why you think-"

"The airport, the train-"

"You helped me."

"I what?" He laughed and began to sit up.

"You helped me escape," I was starting to worry that none of this was ringing a bell, "'you better run'."

"I didn't know you were in trouble until I saw you on the news."

"I didn't know I was in trouble until I saw myself on the news." I had a feeling I wouldn't have to worry about Chinese water torture being next, I could tell he believed me.

"Why go through all the trouble of saving you," he started the car and grew quiet, "unless it was to keep you accessible."

"Accessible?" I pulled my seatbelt on, remembering his driving.

"It's harder to get to you in prison." He seemed a lot calmer, relieved by his own logic.

"Why couldn't someone have saved me because I am innocent?"

"Because that's my M.O. and I didn't save you."

 

We headed away from the park, this time he didn't drive like a Fast and the Furious extra and I was almost grateful. He put the phone to his ear, "Jordi, I know you're back, pick up your damn phone." He was quiet for a moment and then I heard a voice on the other side, inaudible however.  
"Yeah, business. Speaking of which, I have something for you." Another not of silence on the car-jacker's part, "If that was the case, I would have done it a month ago when you snaked your way back." He glanced at me and smirked, taking the phone from his face, "it's hard to explain."  
"You'll love it. Owl motel. 15 minutes."   
He pulled into the parking lot of the Owl Motel and got out of the car. I sat in car a while longer and watched him pace and talk. He ended the conversation and l looked at me through the windshield, determination in his expression. He came around and opened the door, "Out."  
"Have you been informed you're unnecessarily rude?" I scootched closer to the center-console.  
"Out, please." Sarcasm. What was I not surprised? He grabbed me by my arm and the trip upstairs was a painfully poor attempt to ignore gravity.  
We got to his door and he turned unlocked it. At this point, I couldn't figure out his game plan. If he didn't save me, who had? He was annoyed with it. With me. He did I'd taken something, but I hadn't. Fear started to creep in, he said someone was trying to keep me accessible, was he too? I didn't want to find out. Maybe jail was safer.   
"Help!" I began to yell until the holy union of his palm and my mouth were reunited. He pulled me inside and gave me a light push onto the bed. I stood up quickly and watched him close the door and whip around.   
"That was a stupid move," He closed the gap between us and I backed into the wall, "are you trying to get caught?"

"Caught? You framed me for murder!"

"What?" He laughed And pot a hand on the wall and leaned in, "if someone's trying to put you in jail, then it's Blume who's trying to get to you." He put his other hand on the wall divvy his weight, "but if someone else is hacking CTos to keep you out," he sighed, "what was on it?"   
"On it?"

"The program. The digital trip. And don't say everything was blue." 

"Are you going to kill me?" I struggled to break eye contact, but it wasn't happening.

"Do I need to?" 

How was I supposed to know? What's a good reason to kill me? I heard the metallic clink of the cuff. I didn't look down, but I had an idea--a good reason not to kill me is if I'm attached to you. I brought my left hand up followed by the right. I clasped the cuff around his wrist and watched as he quietly stared at it.

"Is that your answer?" He looked at me.

"Huh?"

"You think I won't kill you if you're cuffed to me?" He grabbed my left wrist with his right and tossed me on the bed, "you're trying my patience."

A knock on the door broke the staring contest.

"Who is it?"

"It's the pizza guy." There was enough sarcasm to penetrate the door. 

The car-jacker looked up, "Jordi," he smirked, "this should be fun to explain." He pulled me up and opened the door with his left hand, forcing me behind the door. A man stepped through and the door closed. 

Long time no see, Aiden." He smiled and then froze, "Uh, you got a cling-on problem, captain?" He pointed at me as he raised his hand to emphasize the cuffs. "Who is she?"

"She's your new contract."

"She's right there, what do you need me for? Kill her." Jordi grabbed the chain and gave it a tug. 

Aiden jerked his hand away, "I don't want her dead. Blume's after her."

"Oh, no no no. Maurice was excruciating pathetic. I'm not good with pets. They always die."

"Room, food, water. She stays inside, Out of sight. It's not hard."

"I've got that part down. It's the crying and begging to be let go. You pop her, all of your problems will be solved." He was very matter of fact about it and I worried this was making sense.

"All of your problems. If you can't handle it, I'll just-"

Jordi sighed, "Fine, fine. I'll do it." He looked around at the room and then at me, "I do work for money." 

"Yes, you do." There was a dig in Aiden's words. I didn't know the history of these two, but it sounded like there was an issue.

"So what am I doing?" Maybe I'd take my own welfare into my hands. 

"You've done enough." Aiden barely regarded what I had to say.

"I'm not hanging out with a fixer," I looked at him and his smug face, "no offense."

"None taken, but you're not paying me, so we'll be hanging out." He made the quotation marks with his fingers.

I looked at Aiden, "why? Can't I just go?"

"I've tried getting you to go on several occasions, I wanted you to go." He put a hand on my head, "You can't keep out of trouble."

"Me?" I shrugged out from under his hand, "you couldn't keep yourself out of trouble and you're family had to leave because of it!" As soon as I said I wish I hadn't cuffed myself to him.

His eyes narrowed and he looked to Jordi, "You think I should just shoot her and call it a day?"

"Family stuff, probably not the best way to go." Jordi tried to break the tension.

"I'm leaving!" I threw my uncuffed hand up and walked towards the door.

"No, you're not." Aiden blocked the door with himself and lifted his cuffed arm. "It's not permanent, it's just until I get this sorted."

"Shooting me is pretty god-damned permanent." I put my free hand on the knob, ignoring his blockade.

"I'm not going to shoot you." He eased me backwards and tried to guide me into the room.

I dug my heels in, "I'm calling bullshit." 

"Look," he stopped pushing me, "it may be partially my fault that you're," he avoided eye contact for a moment, "in this." He put his hand on my head- his thumb by my temple and sighed and then he froze. "Hey," he put his hand on the back of my neck, "are you--" He tipped my head back and placed the back of his hand across my forehead. I swatted him away.

"What's your problem?" I was between cranky and confused. 

"Take your shirt off," he grabbed the bottom of my shirt and I raced to keep it down.

"Hey, I'm just gonna," Jordi pointed to the door.

"Stay put," he instructed Jordi, "you, you may septic."

"Hey, I don't play nurse." Jordi still heading for the door.

"I can't watch her, not with what's going on." He wrestled my shirt off and I raced to cover myself with my hands and his right arm went unwillingly. Grabbing my left hand in his, he put it by my side. He ran his fingers on the edges of a square bandage. It was soaked in sweat and blood. It wasn't bleeding now, but it must had been. Probably my new-found athletic lifestyle. 

"Gross." I looked up and tried to cover myself again.

"Relax." He tried to peel the adhesive tape

"You took my shirt off, after I said no." I whacked his hand away. 

"It's nothing I haven't seen already," he pulled the bandage off and started to peel back the gauze and I just blankly stared, "Who do you think patched you up the first time?" 

I wiggled my left hand and raised it, "I don't want to be attached to you anymore."

Aiden smirked, "I can get them off," he made a face when he peeled back the last gauze pad, "this is...."

"Not my problem," Jordi opened the door, "This is going to involve crying and coddling, I don't do those. I'll watch your pet, when it's not dying, otherwise I can't make guarantees."

Aiden gave a careless wave and Jordi left without so much as a look back. I watched Aiden's features change from mildly annoyed to super focused. What was that all about, "Coddling?"

"Yeah, he's not particularly cuddly." He nodded toward the closed door. 

I watched his face and he looked up at me the moment he poked something and it hurt, "hey."

"Yeah, so this is infected." His eyes narrowed and he grabbed his phone with his free hand. 

"What are you doing?" 

"You're going to need to trust me," he put the phone down, "and stop doing stupid things." He lifted his cuffed wrist--exhibit A.

"I figured you wouldn't kill me if-"

"I'd saw your arm off...or break your fingers." He was very matter if fact and if it weren't for the reassuring smile, I'd have thought he'd been planning that. "Luckily cop cuffs are standard and I can pick it."


	6. A trip with Jordi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a few months since I've written. I'll appreciate feed-back, especially on characterization. Will likely re-edit this chapter. Enjoy.

     For nearly two hours I had done my best impersonation of a statue while the car-jacker, Aiden Pearce, worked to repair the very thing he'd toyed with doing. My modesty had had a presence when he began to remove the gauze that had stuck to my wound, but dwindled away when his eyes didn't wander. They kept a steady gaze on my shoulder and my own fixated at his stoic face, occasionally at some imaginary point passed him when his eyes met my own, questioningly.

"Breathe," 

I sucked in air harshly, the breath audible, "Fuck."

"Hmmm?" He didn't take focus off my shoulder until a moment later when his grunt-inquiry went unanswered. "There's no point patching you up if you suffocate." His green eyes caught the light in an odd way and it softened him. I all of the sudden became aware of how close our faces were and just how naked I was.

"What?" Modesty returned.

"Does it hurt?" He leaned back for a moment and folded his arms.

"No more than when I got it." My right arm cautiously rose to cover my breasts. 

"Ok..." He looked confused by something and I searched my twenty seconds of short term memory to try and figure out what I'd done, "you're going to live." He stood up and unzipped his asymmetrical sweater.

"Is that a good thing?" He didn't seem too thrilled with the prospect. 

His face lost its softness, the light extinguished. I quickly tried to swallow my words with abrupt silence and staring at the blanket over the bed...joking with him probably was a breach of car-jacker kidnappee conduct. I had a momentary flash of when he very nonchalantly pondered shooting me in what I hoped was not serious. He was trying to fix the hole I'd just gotten, he wouldn't put another one in me for forgetting myself? 

"Yes, it's a good thing." His admission came with a small laugh and it seemed more like he was informing himself.

"So...can I just...?" I pointed to the door.

He stood in the middle of the room with hands on the small of his back, trying to straighten himself out after hunching all that time, "No. But nice try."

"What if I promise to actually not end up back here."

"It's not you I'm worried about," he walked over to the door and tested the knob, "not directly anyway." He fiddled with his phone and resumed his standoffish stance. "We need to figure out who's after you."

"...and why." I added. I liked motive more than the next guy.

"I know why. You, you know why." He pulled off his grey sweater to reveal a plain white t-shirt underneath. 

"No, I don't." I averted my eyes to the wall as I felt an emotional wave peak, "You can say it's that stupid file... it wasn't anything worth all of this, everything was-"

"-blue. Yeah, you say that, but..." He tossed the sweater on the end of the bed and flicked on the projector from before. "Who do you know?"

"None of them. I've never met any-"

"I know, but just look and tell me who you think they are." He sported a smirk, like he'd known some super-cool secret and I wasn't apart of it.

I looked at the board, the bright images of faces and headlines. It was nothing to me. No names, no--and then it hit me as if it were something I'd forgotten. I pondered a picture and realized I knew the name, I knew the face...I knew everything. It must have been obvious I was having my own super-cool secret because his eyes narrowed as his impatience grew. As soon as I became aware of this, I worked to relax my face, "What?"

He folded his arms, "This is why you're not going."

"Because I don't know?" I asked incredulously.

"Because you're not sharing with the class." He pointed at the picture of Jordi, "He doesn't know you. You've never even been in the right place to meet him." He walked in front of the projector to point at Jax and Nikki on the opposite side, "and them..."

"I don't know them." I shook my head.

"Don't." It was all he warned as he stepped into my space. 

"Don't what?" I could feel my eyes welling up as I felt his anger breach his calm facade.

He sighed and stopped in his tracks, "Put it on."

"What?" 

"The shirt, put it on." I looked at the end of the bed at the sweater, but there was no shirt...and then I realized my own shirt was nowhere to be found. I scooched down the bed and touched the sweater, "Your shoulder needs to heal, so no raising your arm." He said it as if the rest of that logic would instantly fall into place. It was delayed, but I'd gathered he was referring to zip-up = no raising arm = good.

I looked at the sweater in my hands and touched a thumb hole, "...right." He switched off the projector and if there was a way to slam sit on a chair, he found it.

 

I'd slipped the large sweater on myself and though it felt great to be covered up again, I'd been bothered by the metallic smell that clung onto it. It smell was familiar and though that was partially masked with a musty cologne that my mind mistook as pleasant, I'd wondered if it was blood. He'd settled for ignoring me and typing furiously on a keyboard balanced on his lap. He'd occasionally mumble to himself and then stare into the screen with his lips slightly parted. I resided to staring at the door and working scenarios of what'd happen if I made a mad-dash for it.

"Jordi," his voice broke the silence and this instantly got my attention,  "pet stopped dying, come collect her."

"Now would be better." He spoke out again after a few minutes of silence. "Just basic don't let her die, you can handle that." He looked over at me, wide-eyed, and stood up. His tone with Jordi led me to believe these two enjoyed a fruitful relationship of banter, but the occasional digs made me wonder if something had gone wrong.

"I find your resolve remarkable considering how we parted," he put a hand on my shoulder and rested it there, "may not be quite so cut and dry, it's gotten complicated." The phone-call ended a few seconds later and he tossed the phone face down by the computer and looked at me.

"Why him?" I asked, still recalling bits and pieces of memories, still unsure why I was remembering something I'd never experienced.

"He's the best, you should be grateful." He plopped back in front of the monitor.

"He's a hitman. A murderer. Torturer. He's notoriously dangerous. Why should I be grateful?"

He turned in his chair to face me, "Because he's going to be keeping you safe." His tone reminded me of an adult's. Yes, we were both adults--I was guessing he'd been one longer than I had, but the way he handled himself, the answers he always had on hand...I felt like I was being grounded for a week without tv.

"You mean tied to a chair in a basement?" It was obvious I wasn't thrilled.

"Difference?" Amusement dipped back into his tone. 

"Look," my hands started moving while I spoke, "I'm sorry about grabbing your phone. I'm sorry I messed up your stuff, but I don't want to be tied to a chair and tortured. Please." Maybe please would be the golden word? He grabbed my left arm and held it until I stopped flailing.

"Not as sorry as you're going to be." He let my arm go, "Knowledge of that file's existence was a bit more public than what I can manage while chasing you all over town. Bloom, DedSec, the Club, Vice-Roys-"

"You," I inserted as he went down the list of implicated parties. 

He looked at me, some sort of dulled-hostility behind his conviction, "-me. There's a lot of big players implicated and a lot of information those very same people want. Bloom's already tied you to this because of the car-"

"I know, I know, I should have just gotten out." I shut him down. He was just going to tell me what I already knew. What he'd already said. How I didn't listen when he warned me to leave and how I didn't listen when he warned me to stay.

"I'm not mad at you." It came out of nowhere.

"Huh?" I hadn't been expecting that one.

"I don't want you to think I'm sending you to Jordi because I'm angry. I'm not even chastising you right now," he fiddle with his palms, "I need you to understand that the information you're holding has a lot of weight. You're not going to be safe here, maybe not with Jordi either...but you're chances are better. We're both targets. We need to split up."

"Both of us?" I hadn't considered it before that he'd potentially be in as much shit as I was.

"They're going after you just based on association," he jabbed at his keyboard for a moment, "they want the file if you have it or where it is if you don't."

"So why don't you let Jordi babysit you?" I couldn't help but smile at my own suggestion.

"Because I can't type with my hands tied to a chair." His smirk outdid my own, which quickly faded upon confirmation the chair scenario was likely.

"Why don't they just get another copy? It's a file, right? Someone has a copy. If they get a copy won't this stop?" He turned his monitor to me just then. It was a headline about a drugdeal gone wrong. I shrugged my shoulders, "So?"

"You haven't been introduced, but this is the group that sold the information down in the wards, our pursuers in the 'car chase', less than twenty four hours after I'd intercepted it. If there was a copy, this wouldn't have happened."

"A drug deal?" I failed to see the connection.

"It's not a drug deal." 

"It says-" I pointed at the screen.

"It's a cover-up."

"Right, of course it is." I wrapped my good arm around myself, "So what kind of information peddler doesn't make copies?"

" I don't think they realized the file would corrupt after the upload. I'm betting they were just as surprised."

"Aiden?"

He looked at me oddly when I used his name, like I'd called him dear or love and it wasn't mutual, "yeah?"

"If people are willing to kill for this because of who's in it and...would Jordi... If he was in it?" 

"You'll have time to ask him, but I don't recommend it."  He got up and went near the door, now staring at his phone. In one quick motion he opened the door to Jordi with a fist raised, ready to knock. 

"Hey Lucy, I'm home." He cracked and stepped in with a hand on his hip.

My heart started thudding in my ears. This was it. I was not looking forward to being 'watched' by him. Stuck with him wherever he was going to take me, for however long.

"Food, water, and..." Aiden dug through a black duffle bag by the couch and the unmistakable sound of  pills sliding from one end of a bottle to the other piqued my curiosity, " three times a day would be ideal, but once would probably be fine. I'll call you in a few days once I figure out who put this out there." 

Jordi gave me a look that had the unspoken effect of "stay there" and with an arm on Aiden's back lead him near the kitchenette. I stayed on bed, my ears pricked up trying to hear, but I couldn't make out the words. I looked at the door: closer than they were. 

"Just so you know the gun is because I don't plan on running after anyone." Jordi stood infront of me offering a hand. I looked at it for a moment and got up on my own. "We're off to a great start." His sarcasm was unsettling when paired with his over use of hand gestures.

Aiden pulled me aside, a hand on my shoulder, "Try to behave."

"What? Me?" Why would he give me advice like that? I wasn't particularly unruly at any point.

"No escape attempts and if you 'somehow' remember anything, keep it to yourself. I'm going to follow a few leads, in the mean time, head down, mouth shut." 

I quietly turned as my mind froze in horror to how cold he'd gotten within the last few moments.

With a hand on my back, Jordi, guided me out the door, down the stairwell and out to a populated parking lot. He aimed me towards  a white SeVanti Cruz and looked around as if he were paranoid. A car pulled up next to it and I felt hesitation in Jordi until the driver's side door opened up and driver stepped out, clearly engaged in a phone call. He led me to there passenger side door, opened it, and guided me in. "Look at us. You do what you're supposed to do. I do what I'm supposed to do. If things stay this smooth the next few days will be easy on you." 

I found his declaration to be taken two ways; one way was that he'd been anticipating my lack of cooperation upon leaving and was pleasantly surprised, the other way focused on how he'd said the next few days would be easy on me if things went this smoothly...leaving an underlying threat if something were to happen, if there were any bumps.

He shut the door and I looked out the window at the driver next to us reaching across the seat to grab something. He stood up and shut the door of his car as Jordi plopped into the driver's seat. I turned to face Jordi for a moment and then back to the window to see a familiar face with a large paper bag in one hand and a cell phone in the other. It took me a moment to remember him but it was clear he remembered me. I shot him a sympathetic look as Jordi pulled through an empty space and onto the street. "Oh yeah..." I mumbled.

"Hmm?" Jordi asked uncertain if he'd missed something I'd said.

"Sorry, nothing." Just the guy from the train. Same black hoodie, same partial smirk. What were the chances really?

Jordi hummed to himself for a moment before fully animating and trying to unscrew the top of the pill bottle single-handedly. I watched out my peripheral vision as I also took in the pristine interior if the car. The seats were white, the dash was a glossy black. The car smelt new. It made me question-

"Here, take this." He had opened the bottle while I was pondering and was now handing me a large white tablet that I unsure if I could swallow. 

"What do I do with that?"

"Take it, swallow it."

"I can't swallow that." I took it and looked at it in my palm.

"Chew it?"

I put it in my mouth and before I could chew it I could tell it was a bad idea. The chalkiness of the tab dissolved in my mouth and a bitter pungent flavour invaded every tastebud. I was quite sure I made a face because Jordi smirked.

"It's that good?" He glanced over and began drumming on his dash to imaginary music.

 


	7. A fall into place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jordi's idea of 'babysitting'
> 
> Kate gets rained on--kinda
> 
> Kate meets Jay/Default
> 
> Kate destroys perfectly good sweater/hoodie
> 
> Aiden and Kate rigid heart-to-heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Completely redid this chapter. Changed story direction. Character. Motivation. Think it's better this way. Opinions?

I settled for propping my head up with a hand, leaned on the window, and made it a point to try and figure out where we were going. From what I could tell, we were heading back to the city; the sky shrinking into towering buildings gave it away, but not before the stop and go of traffic had tipped me off. Jordi was rambling on about something and I was half sure the intent was not to engage me in conversation, but rather to hear himself talk. I tuned him out after I was sure I didn't need to participate and tried to focus in on what was going on. I wondered if my mom had seen me on the news. I wondered what my step-father had to say about it--probably not surprised. Trying to figure out if it would be possible to return to life as usual sent waves of anxiety through me. My imagination sucked.

 

"...and that's when it occurred to me to just shoot once, move the body to a different location and then double-tap. Less mess." The smile on his face was genuine.

 

"Ok..." I stared, forcing myself to blink, trying to be casual. What the fuck Aiden were you thinking?

 

"It's an art, you wouldn't understand." He waved dismissively and continued, "Now, blunt objects are a completely different story--"

 

We ended up passing a highway sign for A-217 and Jordi's topic switched to street racing and something called "the mad mile". Maybe he had gotten the vibe that regaling me with tips on how to start my own hitman inc wasn't well received. The pleasantry ended abruptly when we pulled under a raised section of track and parked on the street.

 

"Stay." He pointed at me and put on a black pair of gloves.

 

"Okay?" I watched him get out and come around to my side. He paused before opening the door and touched the side panel of the car with concern in his expression. He opened the door, shaking his head and looking at something in his palm.

 

"Fucking punks have no respect for what I work for." He tossed something in my lap, stood perpendicular to the car and looked around. It was a small rectangular magnet for a digital art show, "special returning artist" in bright bold letters. Someone must have stuck it to his car. Was this even his car? "Come on, come on, get out." He put a hand under my arm and rushed the exiting process.

 

"Here?" It was a hostel. I'd never been in one but was sure that this was some sort of mistake. There were people. Witnesses. Roommates.

 

"Did you prefer a half-flooded basement where no one can hear you scream?" He put a hand on my back and steered me to the glass doors.

 

We were on the top floor in a room with one bunk bed. The bottom bunk was a full-sized mattress and the top bunk was...well...small. The room was narrow and had a window at the end which Jordi went to immediately and parted the blinds to look out. I kept my back to the door and slowly moved near the window.

 

"This is home for you," he turned and motioned to the room in its entirety, "and this is yours." It was a cell phone-Tracphone, almost the size of my palm. I cocked an eyebrow.

 

"I get a phone?" I hit the home button and the screen lit up. I was pretty thrilled.

 

"Before you go and get any cute ideas, it'll only receive--you can't dial out. No wifi. 4G." He moved around me and partially lifted the bottom mattress looking for something.

 

"Wait, are you leaving me here?"

 

"Look, it's really cozy, but," he plopped the mattress down, "you're safe here, job done."

 

"Yeah, but--I could-"

 

"You could, but that'd be stupid. Your benefactor is paying to keep you safe--not hostage. Where are you going to run? Why run?" Return of the large hand gestures and cocky tone.

 

"I," he had made me feel ridiculous, "I don't-"

 

"I'll tell you what," he turned his back towards the door, "you're not running or trying to contact anyone," he started toward me, "You're not going outside. You're not even talking to any of the beanie boppers in this building...any building." I unconsciously backed into the window and he bridged the gap--the smell of something vanilla on him, "Before the police find you, or bloom, or your family--I'll find you," he had a malicious smirk, "And I'll be upset because it's my reputation on the line. And you'll be trying to ruin that reputation. And I just might-" he gestured his hand into a gun shape and put it near my head "pow." He dropped his hand and watched my reaction, the fear.

 

"Ok." My eyes were at their widest and my chest rose and fell rapidly.

 

"I've got business downtown," he fished something out of his pocket and threw it toward me, "stay put. Window closed. Bathroom down the hall is fine. No common room, lobby, computers in the hall are off limits. Aiden's supposed to pick you up when he's done."

I looked at the pill bottle he threw and tried to focus. His whimsical mannerisms were horrifying now. He was crazy. He was fucking crazy. I nodded and he left without another word.

 

I'd had time to think about it while I sat in my little 10x6 room. He was right. Why run when it felt like everyone was out to get me? Aiden was my best shot. My best shot at what? I didn't know. But I couldn't live paranoid like this. I parted the blinds and watched as the train went by and then down at everyone walking freely. Lucky.

  
I'd awoken to a sudden vibration in my hand and a dark room. The display of the phone read 11:29PM. I'd slept the day away. Awesome. I dismissed the phone and layed my head back down until another episode of the phone having a seizure made ignoring reality impossible.

(2 text messages)

  
(u awake?)

  
(Alive?)

Why would Aiden ask me questions if I couldn't respond? I texted in the message field but when I'd hit send it didn't go through.

(Message failed to send)

I sighed in frustration and put the phone back on the mattress. A moment later it vibrated again,

(Come out)

It was concerning he'd be suggesting this after my pep-talk from Jordi. I got up, went back to the window, and parted the blinds. The city was lit up in an orange haze. Marquees were the only contrast from the orange and darkness. A marquee that wrapped around the building on the opposite side of the tracks caught my eye. It was an advertisement for that digital artshow, the one from the magnet. Small world. I watched as the text paraded around the building and disappeared around the corner.

  
The phone vibrated again,

(Hi)

Maybe it was a wrong number. Some crazy teen Romeo trying to get his middle school girlfriend out if the house. I smirked at the thought of being a cockblock and looked back out the window; the marquee had changed

(Come out Come out I know where you are)

(<:8.    )~~~~ )

I shut the blind abruptly and sat on the bed. Definitely not Aiden. My mind raced with the possibilities. The phone vibrated,

(K. Creepy. I kno. Come have fun.)

I left the phone to vibrate uncontrollably while I inwardly considered leaving the room to find a phone I could call out on. It wasn't Aiden--no part of my imagination could warp it that way. Not that a phone to call out on would do me any good--I had no idea how to get a hold of him. Who was this?I looked back at the phone,

(Taxi outfront)

  
(CTos can't see you)

  
(Come have fun)

  
(You'll be back before daddy Aiden knows)

I smirked at the last text. This felt almost exciting if not for the fear of dying, or worse, Jordi. I stared at the quiet phone; no intention on leavin, but unable to shake the anxiety that was building. Whoever this was knows Aiden--knows I'm here because of him-

  
Another text.

  
(K then. Umbrella?)

  
"Huh?" I had no idea what it meant.perhaps I rained on his parade.

  
A loud noise pushed its way through my room followed by cold water splashing against my cheek, down my hands, soaking into my clothes. I sat up quickly and clutched the phone to my chest as the shrieks of neighbouring inhabitants competed for loudest-obnoxious noise.

  
"Umbrella..." It made sense now in a horrifying omniscient kind of way--he was trying to force me out of the building.

  
I sat on the bed, cold, my arms folded. I wasn't going to leave that room. I wasn't going to discover how Jordi built his reputation. "I'm not moving."

  
My door crashed open, interrupting my mantra, and forcing my flight reaction of rushing towards the window. The intruder was a man in a blue t-shirt; eyes wide, nametag in clear view. Maybe a staff?

  
"Can't you hear this?" He motioned up and looked at my face. I nodded, fearing I was in trouble, knowing full well a fire alarm meant to clear the building. He took a step towards me, ushered me out of the room, and we joined the small heard of soaked dormmates down the hall.

  
"He's going to kill me." I sighed through a shiver.

  
Once we filed down the stairs and out of the lobby through the glass doors, I saw the street; lined with fire trucks, police cruisers, and an ambulance, and could only think about needing to get away. Visions of the airport still played in my mind and I wasn't looking for a repeat. I slinked down the sidewalk past the crowd and kept my head down. The phone twitched to life,

  
(Ur out yay)

  
I rolled my eyes and looked around--there was a cab parked further down the street, away from the bustle.

  
(Coming?)

  
I shook my head. The persistence rivaled most mosquitoes

  
(Running shoes?)

  
I froze. I wasn't a hundred percent sure, but it felt like a threat. Didn't plan on running around in fall drenched.

  
"Going," I yelled out, throwing my arms up, and looking around to see if I could spot whomever it was that could clearly see me.

  
.The cab was pretty standard. My driver spoke English, kinda, and it smelt like cigarettes. I sat inside and offered the driver "hello", unsure if this was the right one.

"Do you know where I'm supposed to be going?" It was worth a shot, if worse came to worse I'd look like an idiot.

"Youa going to ahhh, ahhh, conneshon." He explained with a smile.

"Conneshon?"

"The crub."

I felt guilty smirking, but it couldn't be helped. The phone vibrated,

(no ruining the surprise)

Even in here they knew.

"Here you go. You ahh have good night. Be good girl." The cab sat outside a building with a long line wrapped around to the next street. I stepped out and turned to say thank you but he drove off and left me to fend for myself.

The line consisted of people in dresses, men in a mix of casual and club clothes. I felt underdressed. Drenched.

Turning my attention to the actual line snapped my appearance concern in half and had me guessing how long I'd wait. These people, switching their weight from one leg to the other, looked like they'd been there for a while and I was watching as some were actively being sent away from the door.

(Go 2 the door)

I shook my head at this. I didn't belong here. I could hear the music pulsing from inside the building. I could see how everyone dressed. I didn't want to risk being turned away at the door. Risk? I was going to be turned away at the door. Was a drown rat. My self-esteem couldn't take the hit.

(fun bhind door)

  
(feet use them)

I took in a deep breath and walked over to the door where two men in black suits loomed over the line. I received a few stares and felt my spine start to turn to jelly.

"Back of the line." One said in a deep voice.

I nodded. "Saw that one coming." I turned, feeling the eyes of everyone in line laugh at me, and started walking.

"This way, please." I didn't think it was to me until a hand touched my shoulder. The same Conan the barbarian double that sent me away gestured to the door with a nervous expression. I smirked. It felt awesome. So awesome, in fact, that I smiled widely at the line as I went into the double door and had forgotten I was a humancicle.

The door slammed behind and the room was dark. Panic. A light came from above and I shielded my face as I contemplated if I managed to end up in a worse situation. The music was closer and when four doors swung out into a room full of darkness, blue haze, people, and green lights, I'd realized it was all for show. I breathed a sigh of relief and walked cautiously into a swarm of dancing bodies that jumped in time with the music.

The claustrophobia, bodies bumping into me, and the constant worry I'd fall and get trampled, led me to bar which was to the right of the entrance. It was almost in the shape of an eight and had an aquatic green light that glowed from under the ridge. I grabbed a seat--a backless stool--and placed my palms on the swirled resin counter. The designs were trippy to say the least and the walls of the club, mirrors, pushed the vibe further as all the colored lights and patterns bounced from wall to wall.

"Rough night?" It was a man in a hoodie with a rounded pair of glasses.

"What?"

  
"You're all," he swirled a finger in my direction, heavily amused at my expense "Drink?"

  
"Wha?" Maybe I was dense.

  
"A drink? Can I make you a drink?"

  
"Oh," I was at a bar, "sure."

  
He waited for a moment, "Yes?"

  
"Oh," I whacked my forehead with my hand, "whatever. I don't care."

He grinned and disappeared amongst the blur of other bartenters and returned moments later with a blue drink with a green cloud that floated in the middle, "What is it?"

"Do you care?" He leaned over, apparently something was funny because he was trying to hold a straight face.

"No, I guess I don't." He disappeared before I could yell thanks and then the phone began vibrating again. I placed it on the counter and sipped the drink through two little straws until I determined that the straws weren't cutting it and opted to drink from the glass. When I put the cup down, it was empty. It surprised me. But it was good. Dangerously good.

I looked around behind the bar, searching for the bartender who'd made it. Wanted to know what it was. Wanted another. Why it tasted amazing; not quite sure how I was paying for it. Before I found him, he casually walked by, slid another one infront of me, and was gone just as quickly. I looked at the phone lighting up and vibrating in a circle, nearly off the counter. I chugged the drink and picked up the phone-

(icu)

  
(r u cosplaying as aiden?lololol)

  
(wait b4 u order)

  
(bad idea)

  
( x drinks)

  
(Lol, x, ur screwed)

  
(Moar? Lololol)

Apparently I'd missed a few texts but I couldn't figure out the issue: I was old enough to drink. Uneasy, however, that he used Aiden's name again, he'd somehow texted on the phone Aiden gave me.

  
"Fuck this,"overwhelmed.

  
I looked up and another drink was infront of me. I knew my limit was probably two. I didn't drink, except socially, and two in less than thirty minutes was going to bite me in the ass. I wasn't sure of my future--if I even had one at this point. Why care now, I was pretty sure this adventure wasn't going to be all sunshine and lemon drops.

I sipped on the third and turned around to look at the dance floor. It was hard to tune out the loud electronic music, the bright moving lights, and colliding bodies behind me. I wondered why I never took to the clubbing scene. Oh yeah, life happened. Moving out, a job, college. There wasn't a way to do stupid things and waste time and somehow stay afloat.

(ur glass is mt)

I looked at the cup I'd had to my lips, it was, in fact, empty. How would my mystery texter know? They had to be close. I scanned the crowd but there weren't any suspects. No-one looking my way.

I turned around in my stool and was greeted with another drink and a text;

(Ok, no moar. u r prbly gonna die)

I smirked, grabbed the drink and placed it to my lips.

(Intervention in 3)

I tipped my head back and began to gulp.

(2)

  
(u kno x is ecstasy?)

(1)

I spit the mouthful into the almost empty glass and a hand from behind me reached around and slowly took the cup. It startled me and a hesitantly turned around. As soon as I made eye contact I recognized him--the guy from the train and the parking lot. His hoodie was different, but the same smug smirk graced his pale face and his grey eyes mirrored his impish expression.

"Are you serious?"

"You're funny." He placed the glass down on the counter and made a cold face at the bartender, "how about water?"

"What is that about?"

He put an arm around me and squeezed a little, "I don't think I can keep my promise now."

"Which one?" I squirmed out of his grip but he'd let go easily.

"The one where I get you back and Aiden doesn't know you left."

That sobered me up, "I didn't leave, you-" I began to yell.

"Why don't we go some place quiet." I could feel him apply pressure to the side of me, trying to get me out of the stool. I stood and then quickly sat down.

"Aww shit."

"Yeah?" He made no effort to hide his mirth.

"That hit quick." I steadied myself up again.

"Wouldn't worry yet," He balanced me, putting an arm behind me and leading me towards the crowd, "we should get you someplace you can lay down."

He began to lead me through the crowd of jumping idiots. About five steps into that crowd, I was one of them. He put a hand on the small of my back and matched my movements. It was strange because I knew I didn't dance. I knew I was in a bad situation. I knew I didn't know him, and yet--

"Jay," he leaned close to my ear.

"Jay?"

"Yeah, you?" He moved behind me and pressed himself up against me, a hand touching my neck. I was very aware of him. Of everyone. I could feel every goosebump his fingers glided over, his breath spilling over my cheek. His anticipation pressing into my back.

  
"You don't know?" It came out breathy.

  
"I do," his other hand brushed over my hip, "you're very cynical."

"This music sucks." I smirked.

  
"You're right, it does." He let go of me and spun me into him.

  
"This dj sucks," I leaned in, now craving to touch my face to his, "who is this?"

"It's premixed crap. The real music is coming." His lips brushed my cheek and his hand slowly pulled on the zipper to the sweatshirt I'd been lended. He stopped and pulled away.

"Where you going?" I didn't stop dancing.

"I'm going to fix the music, I'll come find you later." He squeezed through the crowd and disappeared.

I found it odd that I cared and didn't at the same time. I found a new dance partner and felt just as happy to be touched by him. Meanwhile in the back of my mind I knew I needed to find Aiden somehow-the timeframe for that was questionable.

The music changed and over an electronic beat an announcement echoed,

"Welcome to the 4th annual dot.connexion showcase. I am Defalt, welcome to my party." The voice was rough and distorted. The crowded screamed and went wild. I did too. I was happy and excited and I didn't know why.

The music faded into something else and the unsteady rhythm somehow was parallel to what I felt. I wrapped an arm around my new dance partner and was distracted from the vibration in my back pocket. What did that guy want now? I took a quick look at the phone,

  
(Hostel is evacuated. Jordi can't find you.

Where are you?)

  
(You can text me)

"Well shit." I was probably in a lot of trouble. My sorry attention span banner nabbed for the moment, I broke away from my dance partner and looked around. I attempted to text him back,

  
(Sits ducked. Where ate you)

  
Damn you Swype and autocorrect. It'd have to do.

It was unclear how long I'd been dancing. A minute? Eternity? My skin was hot. This sweater was killing me. I needed to get out of here. I went to undo the zipper and my hands were guided to my side. "Hey!"

I turned quickly, it was Jay. "Come here," Jay grabbed my hand and led me up winding stairs. A man in a suit and sunglass stood watch, gun in full view in his holster.

"Where are we going? I gotta-"

"Rat's nest."

I cocked an eyebrow.

"Up high, you'll love it."

Stacked equipment, lights, and the back of a dj with mouse ears came into view passed the armed guard.

"What is this?" I rfrained from dancing and turned to Jay who was putting on an angular luminescent rat mask. He pulled his hood up, fed the ears through slits, and got low as he approached the dj. I watched half caring, half wanting another drink--remembering that the drinks were bad. Jay tapped the man's leg and he bent down, took off his own mask, and walked by me without so much as a look. A double? Jay was a double? Or was that guy a double?

"Halloween party?" I laughed and came up beside Jay, his hands slid over a multitude of switches, and a computer monitor fed different colored lines passed the screen; each squiggle matching a sound.

I looked down and caught a familiar face. Before I could say anything, Jay crouched with me down to the floor and then stood up alone, keeping a hand on my head. I'd forgotten my alarm and rubbed a cheek up against his leg. Reveling in the sensation of touch. Sound. Being absorbed once more in what felt like a very boxed in existence. I really wanted it...I brushed a hand over the front of his pants and felt his body stiffen. Having his attention, I traced the zipper of his jeans, the shape becoming more defined and pressed hard with my palm. His breathing picked up. I haphazardly unzipped his jeans and he tipped his head back-balancing himself momentarily on his equipment. I slipped him out of the fold of his red boxers and without processing too much detail, had put the head of him in my mouth. His hold on my head slid to the back as he pressed me forward into him. I flicked the hardened head with my tongue sending a shiver through him. I looked up and he tried to look down with the mask on-the nose of it poking his chest. I was out of logical thoughts. So wasn't he.

Something missed in the music and grabbed his attention. I drew him in deeper and sucked harshly. I was sure it was between painful and pleasing by the way he tensed. My hand traced up his leg, to his stomach. His knees buckled. I moved my tongue along the bottom of him. Following the veins. He grabbed my hair and tried to initiate a rhythm but it clashed with the song--the crowd noticed the timing and booing began.

Something from the corner of my eye caught my attention and I turned, mouth full, to see Jay's Halloween partner give a nod and take his spot.

Jay succumbed to the floor and I straddled his legs, my hands raking his chest, trying to touch everything I could. His body stiffened in an instant, he knocked off his mask and put a hand back on my head--guiding me deeper. His hips rocked up and he held the muscle tightened position, his hands straining. My mouth filling. This presented a problem. I depended on instinct to guide me this far and instinct now was saying to spit it out. I raced to sit up--still holding it in my mouth. Feeling the heat contrast. The taste...bleach...turning my stomach. I looked at him, desperately unsure what to do. He put a hand out, "It's ok," his mind was too tired and it read in his body language, "if you can't swallow it, th-"

It was too late. I wretched and puked on the floor, down the already damp sweatshirt. Pants. Everywhere. It was hard to breathe. Impossible. My mouth hung open, gasping. Jay trying to wake his mind up to react. The music was overwhelming my senses. I looked down at the checkered floor.

I woke up to the glow of filtered sunlight reflecting off the walls. "Fuck..." My body hurt. Head hurt. I put a hand on the wound I'd been sporting--it throbbed. Went so far as to think of what happened last night and that very act hurt.

  
"How'd I get back here?" I pulled the blanket over my shoulders and scoped the room out. Was this Aiden's motel room. I inhaled sharply, having just agitated the wound on my shoulder in a battle with the blanket, that smell. Stale grease. It was definitely his place.

"Morning." It was Aiden sat on the small couch under the windowsill.

Memories of the night flooded in but felt distant enough that I wasn't sure they'd happened. I remembered puking. I felt like I had. I felt like I wanted to again, "Aiden?"

"Fun night?" He handed me a small styrofoam cup. The pungent smell hit hard: coffee.

  
I squinted my eyes and touched the cup to my lips, "No." I smirked and a giggle escaped. It'd caught me off guard. I looked at him questioningly.

  
"I'm betting you did." He turned his phone to me. It was a dark video, but it was definitely me and the back of someone's head. My mouth hung open; was I making out?

  
"Oh my god," I put my free hand to my eyes, "what the hell." Giggling still pried its way between words and facial expressions.

  
"You gonna to make it?" Aiden sat on the end of the bed and stared for a moment, "You're high,"not accusational, "still."

  
"No." I shook my head.

  
"Yeah," he smirked and opened up a paper bag, "I need the phone."

  
"The phone?" I thought about it and fished it out of the sweatshirt pocket, "why didn't you just take it?" I slap it on his palm.

  
He looked at it with a crinkled nose, "You were moaning and kinda grabby" he looked at his hand and wiped it on the blanket that covered me, "felt safer to wait." He turned his attention down to the phone,"Hmm." It came out with a little laugh.

  
"What?" I pulled the blanket down more and tried to crawl over and see.

  
(l8r, no moar drinx)

  
(Daddy Aiden is 2old 4u)

  
"Daddy Aiden?" he handed me a bagel out of a paper bag he'd had beside him, cream cheese bursting out of the center, "anything else happen?"

  
I didn't have words for him, but the face I made said it all. He dropped the smirk. "I saw you there."

  
"The club?" Aiden was about to bite into his own bagel.

  
"Yeah."

  
"Briefly. Vermin problem. It's done."

  
"What do you mean it's done? What's done?"

  
"Your pet rat," his mouth partially full, "done."

  
My eyes couldn't blink. I didn't feel like giggling, not anymore. He killed Jay? "Why?" It came out as incredulous.

  
"Defalt," he swallowed, "supersecretlolz, it's a piece of cheese to get the rats to fight each other. Only one rat gets the cheese. Your little love interest wanted to sit back and watch."

  
"Defalt? You mean Jay? I don't know Defalt."

  
"You're naked in my bed with his sweatshirt on," he took another bite, "tell me more about how you don't know him."

  
I looked down at myself, unsure if his claim was true. It was. Black zip-up hoodie with 'Defalt' screened on the front. I touched it.

"The fuck." I balled up a fist and whacked him in the shoulder, dumped the coffee on his coat and whacked him again.

  
He became rigid, grabbed me and pinned me on the bed. I fought to get my hands loose. "Fuck you. Fuck you." I said it through gritted teeth.

  
He sat up high on my chest, my arms under his legs, his hand over my mouth. The glare he shot as he looked down was sobering, "That's never happening again, do you understand?" I tried to look at the wall, refusing to acknowledge him. He squeezed the sides of my jaw, "understand?"

  
I reluctantly looked and nodded, wide eyed. He got up off of me and left his half eaten bagel on the bed. I had sat up quietly and thought about what I'd just done. The anger that overtook me as he casually made a sidenote about killing someone. Someone I'd just met. Someone I'd...a memory flashed in my mind and I leaned forward to puke.

  
"You're a mess," he took off his brown leather jacket and tossed it on the bed, "put it on."  
I gulped air, tears freely flowing down my face, "Are you angry?" I had partially been referring to hitting him, but mostly that I'd gone out.

  
"I half expected something, just not this." He motioned to the room.

  
"This place is already a mess, the vomit is an improvement," then I'd caught it, "What did you expect?"

  
"I gave you an untraceable phone with apps to keep CTos blind. I left you in the city unattended," he pulled his wallet out and looked the room over, "I counted on it, just not to this extent."

  
"Counted on it?" I had gotten the zipper up and stood. "You mean you planned this?"  
He shrugged and threw down forty dollars on the windowsill and headed towards the door, "Was hoping your friend from the airport would make a move. Made contact." He passed me and I had followed him to the center of the room,--very aware I had no shoes...pants...I held onto the sleeves of the jacket. "I underestimated him," he looked away, "Wouldn't have guessed Defalt."

He leaned over and grabbed a bag and started shoving smaller computer components inside.

  
"What are you doing?"

  
"Moving."He sounded less than thrilled.

  
"Why?"

  
He stopped what he was doing and partially turned towards me, "How'd you get in here?"  
I shrugged, "I dunno."

  
"I don't know either. I can't find out. The camera's have been hacked. I've been hacked. Fucking Rubber Duckies."

  
"Rubber Duckies?"

  
He ignored me and began moving stuff out and returning back minutes later for more.

The computers, clothes, monitors slowly filtered out. I'd taken a moment to switch into his coat and left the sweatshirt on the bed.  
He came back in, grabbed the two large towers at the end of the bed, "let's go."

  
"I'm coming with?" I pointed at myself having had been pretty sure I'd be on my own.  
He said nothing and left the room...and the pizza boxes. I trotted out after him. "Where are we going?"

  
"Not out here." He seemed in a hurry. Hiss pace was rushed, his words followed suit.

  
We passed a couple arguing on opposite sides of the door, a couple arguing from the balcony into the parking lot, then a door opened and someone backed out with a large box in hand. Aiden kept moving passed the drama but I had paused. The person with the box turned and blocked my path.

  
"Sorry," he sounded insincere and it made me look up at him.

  
My jaw slacked, "Jay?"

  
"Shhh, go with daddy, I'll be watching." He mouthed something about the jacket I was wearing and walked past me. I almost turned to look if not for Aiden, who had stopped and waited with skepticism on his face. I wanted to tell him, but telling him would likely result in another attempt to kill him. If he didn't kill Jay, who did he kill?

  
I caught up, not making eye contact. I knew I'd give it away. But it made sense. I'd seen him here yesterday. Grabbing something out of a car. The rest started to click--how I got back here, the cameras. Was Jay really Defalt and I'd he was, did that make him bad? 

He loaded the towers into a green mini van and waited in the driver's seat for me to get in.

  
"Now?"

  
He started the car and took a left out of the lot.

  
"I'm not going to tell you."

  
"What? Why?"

  
"I don't trust you."

  
"That's fine, I don't trust you."

  
He laughed spitefully, "You don't trust me?"

  
"No, I don't." He accelerated unnecessarily.

  
"You don't have any reason not to."

  
"I don't have any reason to-" I could how carried away I was getting.

  
"How do you figure?"

  
"You said the information on the file was enough to implicate everyone, You even said 'rats'. You're on it. That's why you were after it. Just one more rat after the cheese."

  
He sighed angrily and pulled over, "Things aren't so black and white," he slammed his fist into the steering wheel, "everyone on it knows about it. I'm not after the cheese, I don't want to get eaten by the rats."

  
"Why would anyone be after you? What did you do?"

  
His eyes narrowed as he grabbed for his phone. He pulled up an image, an article.

'CTos failed to prevent widespread destruction, deaths'...I stopped skimming and looked at him questioningly, "I did this."

  
"You destroyed Chicago?"

  
"I took down CTos, exposed the club, denied DedSec the opportunity to access CTos2, killed the leader of the Viceroys. Went after Defalt." He didn't look proud the way I imagine he'd be. He looked tired.

  
"Whoa, that's everyone? so..." I couldn't find a delicate way to say it, "you're screwed."

  
He looked surprised, perhaps not expecting those particular words. "We're screwed." He put the car back into drive and was off again "but if we take down everyone on this list..."

  
"You mean kill everyone who knows?"

  
"No one will know about it if there's no one left to know about it."

  
"Right," I needed another drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8 almost done re: Claire


End file.
